


Trust Me

by Sams_Princess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Baby Sam Winchester, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Baby Sam Winchester, But not in a sexual way - Freeform, Daddy Dean, Diapers, Drugs, Forced Infantilism, Infantilism, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, NO rape, NOT RAPE, NOTHING SEXUAL BETWEEN SAM AND CAS/DEAN, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-con touching, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated for non-con, Spanking, baths, bottles, papa cas, younger Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 23:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19345045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sams_Princess/pseuds/Sams_Princess
Summary: Dean and Castiel want to extend their family. They find the perfect baby boy in one Sam Wesson. Except, he's not quite a baby, he's 20 years old.





	1. Welcome to Adoption to 1-0-1!

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I keep starting new stories I hear you ask? Well, I would like to know the answer to that myself... I guess you could say, I really can't help myself!!  
> So this little story came to me when I thought about the clear lack of infantilism!Sam stories!! This was then followed by an adorable image of Sammy in a diaper and cute dungarees, grumpy as he sucks on a paci as Papa Cas and Daddy Dean try and encourage him to smile for the guests. And then this was followed for my need to write it god damn it!!  
> Also, I know how awful that summary is, but I couldn't think of anything better just yet!! I WILL update it when I get a better stroke of inspiration!!  
> Enjoy!! <3 <3  
> P.S. All mistakes are my own. I'll try and sort them out ASAP!!

**Chapter One**

The quiet, idle chatter started to gradually build as the room started to fill with excited would-be parents. The room wasn’t overly-large with only enough seats to sit forty. A man and a woman stood on either side of the door and greeted everyone with huge smiles and positive words while a table at the back of the room encouraged the guests to help themselves to refreshments. Situated at the front of the room was a projector, showing the first slide of a well put-together (and well used) presentation. The background of the slide was a soft yellow with cartoon pacifiers, rubber ducks and rattles outlined in a slightly darker yellow. There wasn’t a picture on this very first slide, but the title proudly read;

_‘Welcome to Adoption 1-0-1!’_

Castiel was excited to be here. Himself and his husband, Dean, had been waiting for months to finally be enrolled on the courses necessary for adoption. It was a long, lengthy and very invasive procedure to even get here, but they had finally done it. They were now one step closer to bringing their baby home.

But Dean was nowhere to be seen.

Castiel frowned and glanced down at his phone for the third time in two minutes. He grumpily tapped out another text message, demanding to know where his husband was and why he would dare not to turn up to such an important event for the both of them.

Not even two seconds later did Castiel’s phone ding with an incoming text. It wasn’t from his husband, but from his best friend, Meg.

 _‘Sorry Clarence. D is on his way,’_ The text explained. _‘We had a bit of an incident here. Nothing to worry about. D will tell you everything. xx.’_

Immediately, Castiel felt his worry spike. Saying there was nothing to worry about usually meant there was something to worry about. Castiel typed out a reply in record speed.

_‘Don’t tell me there’s nothing to worry about. Meg, what’s happened?’_

As Castiel anxiously waited for a reply, he nibbled at the skin on the edge of his fingernails. It was an annoying habit he had never quite been able to break out of. When his phone chimed again with another text, he jumped.

_‘Chill Papa Bear. Baby W is safe. D will fill you in when he gets to you. xx.’_

None of this calmed Castiel in the slightest. He nibbled away vigorously at his fingers, cursing when his teeth caught a hangnail and peeled it back too far. He hissed in discomfort and shook his hand to try and lessen the stinging before tucking his hand under his arm and sulking.

He watched the door now, where a few more people were trickling in, the sudden flow seeming to have died away. Castiel glanced at his phone to check the time, noting how the talk was going to start in less than five minutes.

With most people already having arrived, the man, who had stood at the door, started to mingle with the guests, creating small talk with a contagious smile on his face. The woman stayed stood at the entrance, ready to greet the last few stragglers.

And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Dean Winchester came barrelling into the room. His eyes seemed to home in on Castiel and the man made a beeline for his husband, barely stopping long enough to grunt out a rather rude, _‘hi’_ to the woman who welcomed him.

“What happened?!” Castiel demanded to know when Dean was close enough to hear him. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine Cas,” Dean sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief. “He got in a bit of an accident and had to go to the ER.”

“ _What_?!” Cas hissed in horror. His heart clenched as he thought about his poor baby possibly bleeding to death right now, alone, confused and in so much pain. “Dean; what the fuck happened?”

Dean cringed at the swear, knowing that his partner wasn’t one to use such language often.

“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds. He was on his way back from work when he fell off his bike.”

Castiel could picture the scene. He had the man’s route to and from his place of work memorized, knowing how dangerous such a route was in a car, let alone on a push bike. The image in his head showed the babe catching his bike wheel on a rock or a pothole, sending him flying over the handlebars and into oncoming traffic.

“Dean…”

“He got lucky Cas. Just a broken wrist and a few bruises.”

Castiel put his hand to his chest in utter relief. It still wasn’t great, but it was better than imagining the boy on life support machines fighting to keep breathing, _or worse_.

“I pulled over, and rushed to his side…”

Dean went to carry on, but Castiel butted in, too concerned with the first information.

“You spoke to him?”

“Yes,” Dean smiled innocently. “No one else was stopping, so I played innocent bystander who was there to help. I phoned 911 and, _yes_ , I sorted out his medical bills. Nothing but the best for our boy.”

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed at this knowledge. The man in question didn’t have medical insurance simply because he just couldn’t afford it, so there was no way he could pay what would be some crippling medical bills.

“Look,” Dean fumbled into his pocket to pull out his cell, acutely aware of the door’s closing, the man and woman setting up and the room slowly falling silent as they prepared to eagerly listen to every word of the talk. Dean pulled up a hastily snapped photo and showed it to his husband.

Castiel gripped the phone in his hand. Even though the photo was slightly blurry, he could clearly make out the boy, his right arm in a cast, his eyes closed. Castiel’s heart sobbed, wishing he could be the one to look after his boy, provide him the love and comfort that he so desperately needed.

“He’s fine babe,” Dean reassured Castiel again, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding them both to sit down now, as they were so very nearly ready to start the talk. “Meg is watching his every move and if anything changes, she’ll contact us immediately.”

Castiel nodded, wrapping his fingers around Dean’s hand. He didn’t return his husbands phone, looking down at the picture again. He pulled up Dean’s text messages and typed out a rushed text to Meg.

_‘Meg, it Cas. You text me every hour with an update. Even if nothing has changed, please tell me.’_

Meg responded almost immediately, promising to do just that. When he was satisfied, Cas pulled the photo back up, clutching the phone in his hand as if it could make him feel closer to the boy.

And then, the course was starting.

“Good evening,” The woman began kindly. “I know you are all very excited to be here, and we are equally excited to have you here. It’s always great to see such friendly faces ready to take on such a wonderful journey. My name’s Becky…”

“And I’m Ed,” The guy introduced himself. “We’ll be the social workers guiding you through these training courses. Welcome to Heaven.”

A happy ripple went through the seated guests. It was starting to become real for them all now after such a long and tedious time enrolling. However, they weren’t done yet.

Castiel smiled down at the picture of the boy in the hospital bed for a moment before looking up excitedly at his husband.

“For those of you that may not be aware, Heaven is the name of our lovely little community. The reason the town is called Heaven, you may ask?” Becky’s voice was slightly high-pitched as if she was talking to a littlun. None of the guests seemed to mind, too interested in getting started. “Well, our founder, Chuck Novak, decided that the little community he built from the ground up was just that; a little slice of Heaven.”

The presentation behind Becky and Ed clicked to another slide, showing a large picture of an older man, a quote about the community beside him.

“This is so cheesy,” Dean hushed into Castiel’s ear, making the other man chuckle slightly as he nodded in agreement. Again the slides changed, this time to show a birds eye view of the community.

“Many of our parents choose to move into our lovely community once they have adopted their little bundle of joy, if they are not already living here. And while we strongly advise that you _do_ live here, it isn’t mandatory. Here in Heaven, we are one, we are safe. The laws here are, obviously, slightly different to how things are run out there.”

Both Becky and Ed spoke with such enthusiasm in their voices, flicking through the slides of the presentation as they explained the basics that everyone sat listening probably already knew. They spoke more about their community and about the things the community could offer them. They described the different babies and children that were up for adoption, stressing that each one came willingly, even if they did sometimes have to be heavily persuaded. Those that went up for adoption were people who had previously been homeless or some small-time criminal who had accepted this life as alternative sentencing, and then there were even those that just simply volunteered themselves.

Because the thing about the babies and children in their community was the fact that they weren’t actually children. They were Little’s. Adults who consented to being a Little regressed to a simpler time of life when they didn’t have to worry about anything but which toy to play with or what show to watch on TV. And in letting themselves revert to such a state helped those that wanted to care for such a person and live such a lifestyle. Those that wanted to care for the Little’s were called Caregivers.

Becky and Ed took the time to further explain what would happen from this point forward, from the moment they stepped out of the room to the moment that they took their adopted little home for the first time. As the first, orientation meeting came to a close, the caregivers were reminded of when their next course, their first official training course, was and what it was going to cover (basic first aid). As they were dismissed, the guests were invited to stick around and ask any questions they might have and to help themselves to the refreshments that might be left.

Castiel looked down at Dean’s phone, hovering his finger just over the top of the picture still before switching over to the messages. It had only been an hour, and Meg had dutifully text.

_‘The Dr’s been in to see him, Clarence. Baby W is fed and asleep. Dr says he can go home tomorrow. xx.’_

Castiel typed back a quick, appreciated message with a smiley emoji before glancing over at Dean. The man was looking over his shoulder, and when he realized his husband was looking at him, he smiled.

“See, I told you,” Dean reminded. “He’s just fine.”

“I know, I know,” Castiel smiled with a soft smile. “You know how badly I worry about him. I just can’t wait to get him home, where he belongs.”

“Alright Papa Bear,” Dean chuckled, his arm lazily slung over the back of Castiel’s chair, fingers tickling the back of his neck. “Shall we go and ask our question.”

Castiel perked up a bit now, jumping from his chair. Dean loved the man’s enthusiasm and followed just as eagerly. The two men latched hands and mumbled greetings to those that recognized them, excusing themselves politely from stopping to chat for too long.

They had to wait for Becky to finish reassuring a young woman that she could still go ahead with adoption as a single mother despite having recently split with her boyfriend after having gone through the application forms and everything with him. When she seemed satisfied, the woman thanked Becky and then moved to mingle with some of the other caregivers who were still dotted around.

“Hi,” Becky greeted them. She almost jumped right in their faces, making both of them almost flinch back at how suddenly she was there. She immediately recognised Castiel. “Oh! Hi! I didn’t realize you were here tonight!”

She was so excited that she spoke so fast and Castiel could barely keep up and understand exactly what she said.

“Well,” Dean spoke up, speaking for his husband. “We’ve finally managed to get through the application process. God, it takes forever!”

“Yeah, it does!” Becky agreed. Castiel thought over just how enthusiastic Becky had been throughout the whole evening, and it made him wonder just how she managed to keep it up. “And sometimes it can be very invasive, don’t you think?” She waited barely a second for enough time for the two men in front of her to nod. “But it’s so worth it in the end!”

“Definitely,” Castiel agreed readily, squeezing Dean’s hand. Dean squeezed back.

“Anyway, how can I help you?”

Castiel and Dean shared a look before stepping closer to speak in hushed tones. This was something that not everyone in the community knew about, and not everyone agreed with.

“We already have our baby picked out,” Castiel explained. Becky said nothing, just raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

“You’ve already been to the adoption center and put a hold on one of the littles and you want to rush the training, perhaps?”

“No, no,” Dean shook his head. “Baby Winchester wouldn’t be _as willing_ as the other littles.”

And suddenly, Becky got what they were trying to say.

“Ah,” She nodded in understanding. “You’re looking for some _help_ adopting.”

The two caregivers before her nodded.

Becky held up her finger to the two men, in a silent order to _wait_. Then she turned her back to them and started walking over to the small table set up just at the front of the room. It only had two glasses of half-drunk water for the two social workers during the presentation, and housed underneath was a small handbag. The two men watched as she picked it up and shoved her hand inside, rummaging around for something. When she found it she made her way back over to the couple.

“Here,” She offered. It was a business card.

Castiel took it gently.

“Fergus Crowley,” Becky went on to explain, suddenly very serious. “He’s our top specialist in what you want. Give him a ring and he’ll make you an appointment to sort through everything.”

Dean and Castiel shared a soft look before nodding their understanding.

“This route of adoption isn’t widely known,” Becky hushed. “Many of our parents don’t agree with it. Personally, if the babe is a fit, and it’s what’s best for them, then I don’t see the harm in it. However, as I’m sure you’re aware, you will be attending some very different training sessions to the ones we hold.”

“Thank you so much, Becky,” Castiel spoke confidently, holding out his hand for the social worker to shake. “You’ve been a great help.”

Becky beamed under the praise from such a high standing member of their little community.

“Just all part of the job description, Mr. Novak!”

Castiel smirked when she referred to him like that, knowing how it affected his husband.

“Winchester,” Dean corrected her, voice almost cold and threatening. Becky almost squeaked in surprise at the tone but turned her attention to the taller man. “It’s Castiel Winchester.”


	2. Babysitting Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a bit longer than I had first anticipated. I've got the ideas for this story, it's just getting there!! Thank you for all your kind words and your kudos!! It means a lot to me!!  
> I'm going to go through and edit any mistakes and stuff over the next few days - it don't matter how often I read through the chapter before I publish it, something always manages to escape my notice!!

**Chapter Two**

“Good morning, Mr and Mr Winchester,” Mr Crowley greeted the two tall men as they were shown into his office. Mr Crowley was slightly shorter than the couple, but his very person seemed to fill the room. He wore a black, fitted suit and the way he held himself told everyone that he was a very confident, very powerful man who could, and would do anything to get exactly what he wanted; or more specifically, what his clients wanted. He held out his hand, offering these new clients of his, a firm handshake.

“Please, it’s just Castiel and Dean,” Castiel explained kindly as he took the outstretched hand.

“Yeah,” Dean backed his husband up as he too shook hands with the shorter businessman. “It can get rather confusing when you just refer to us as Mr and Mr Winchester.”

“Of course,” The man spoke with an air of sureness. He waved his hand at the two seats positioned on the other side of his desk. “My name’s Crowley,” He introduced as the two men took the offered seats. “Not Mr, and certainly _not_ Fergus. I still, to this day, do not know what demon was possessing my mother when she named me that, but alas…”

The line sounded scripted, practiced and well used, but it did its job, making the visitors chuckle and successfully diffused the nervous tension in the room. Crowley smirked at this, watching as the two sets of shoulders seemed to relax.

“Thank you for agreeing to see us so quickly,” Dean spoke up, as Crowley moved around the modern office to take the seat behind his desk.

“But, of course,” Crowley smiled, almost wickedly. “As soon as I released out great leader’s youngest son and his partner was requesting an audience with me, I couldn’t refuse.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied politely, barely holding back a roll of his eyes. He was used to this type of behaviour inside their community; after all, his father was _thee_ Chuck Novak, their great leader and founder.

Crowley moved on quickly.

“Now, this appointment is literally just an initiation appointment. It will introduce you to who we are as a company and what exactly it is we do and the things we can offer you. Unfortunately, it can still feel like a long process and an even longer journey to bringing your special littlun home for the first time, but it is undoubtedly quicker than going through the “willing baby” route, as we like to call it. However, as you a very prestigious couple, I’ll see what I can do about speeding things along ever so slightly.”

“That would be great, thank you,” Dean agreed readily, before glancing over at his husband to make sure that this was actually okay with him too. Castiel didn’t believe in receiving special treatment, even though he got it everywhere he went; this had now extended to Dean too because they were married, and Dean was technically part of the ‘Novak clan’. Castiel however, smiled at him warmly, nodding his head a fraction in agreement. It wouldn’t hurt to try and hurry things a little, it would be better for Baby W because then he could be home with them sooner.

“Usually, after this initial meeting, I would assign you a caseworker and arrange a time for you to meet with them. Essentially, a caseworker is like one of the “willing baby” social workers, but your caseworker is trained in a few more things than just child welfare,” Crowley didn’t elaborate, but both Castiel and Dean knew what he meant… they were trained in the art of a discreet and safe capture of the poor little babes who didn’t realise their Mommy’s and Daddy’s were waiting for them.

“Your caseworker will also work more closely with you than a typical “willing baby” social worker. This is to ensure a smooth as possible… _transition_ , for lack of a better word. However, rather than pawn you off to someone else, I would like to take this job on myself, if that would be okay with you both?”

Castiel and Dean knew that Crowley was wanting to take this on himself as they were such a high profile couple in the community, and he couldn’t afford one of his employee’s messing up and ruining this for them.

“Of course,” Castiel granted permission politely. Dean was surprised, usually his husband denied such a request and demanded he be treated just the same as any other person in the community, declaring himself their equal. But Castiel had agreed so quickly because he just wanted to move along, he just wanted his baby home.

A flash of excitement seemed to flicker across Crowley’s face, but in a blink of the eye it was gone, leaving both the Winchester’s wondering whether they had imagined it. He moved on quickly, not wanting to leave this celebrity couple waiting.

“Great. Communication is key in this working relationship we will surely build up, even when your Little is finally home. I will continue to work with you for however long you may need me. Now, as you well understand, not very many people in our community know about what we do here. It is literally a needs-to-know basis, for those who are looking to take such a route to adoption. Some people choose to come to us, as it adds a bit more fun, breaking the little in for themselves, the ability to mold the “unwilling” (if you like) being something they crave and desire. Sometimes it’s because they feel like they’re getting nowhere with the “willing babies”, and sometimes just because it can actually be a safer option. If you’re willing to share, may I ask, what turned _you_ to choose this route?”

Castiel and Dean looked at each other again, before Dean started speaking.

“Well, when we found him, we knew he was the one. He was just there, and he was perfect.”

“When we did some digging into him and his background, we found out how hard he currently has it, the poor thing. He’s doing such dangerous, unsanitary things just to keep a roof over his head; he skips most of his meals; he barely sleeps, and he just looks so sad, all the time,” Castiel added. “It breaks our hearts,” He sounded so down heartened, so worried and concerned. It was very clear to Crowley that he was hearing a father talk about his son. “We knew that what we could offer him would be exactly the thing he needs, even if he, himself, doesn’t realise it yet. Because if we don’t step in… he’ll be dead in less than five years.”

“Sadly, it’s a story I hear too often. Our government if failing us far too frequently and it comes to something when _we_ have to step in, in order to ensure a life is not so cruelly taken from us,” Crowley nodded, sadly, in understanding. “The way you two talk about him though, it shows me just how much you love him already.

“We do,” Dean agreed, his tone fond but firm in confirming this, as he thought to his poor babe probably freezing to death right now in his unheated apartment. “He’s been our baby from the moment we set eyes on him,” Dean exclaimed, clearly very passionate about it. “It’s been almost 8 months of tedious paperwork and background checks and god knows what else…”

As he let his sentence trail, Castiel finished it, knowing exactly what Dean was trying to get at.

“We’re ready.”

-TRUST ME-

As time went on, Dean and Castiel began their training, met with Crowley often and eventually helped put a plan into place for the arrival of their baby boy. Crowley would be the one conducting the ‘adoption’ of Baby Winchester when the time came and would ensure his safe ‘delivery’ to his new Daddies. They all hoped the babe wouldn’t put up too much of a fight, but they had realistic expectations and so had a contingency plan in place, just in case.

Soon enough, a date was set and suddenly everything felt very, very real. Dean and Castiel had been planning the nursery for Baby W as soon as they knew he was going to be theirs, but they hadn’t dared start preparing for his arrival in case such a thing jinxed his adoption. Now that they knew _when_ he was coming home, they rushed to get things done. They didn’t mind though, as when they were busy, they weren’t clock watching and counting down the hours until the babe would be home.

The day before the adoption, Castiel was on his last ever babysitting duty. ‘Babysitting duty’ (as it had been dubbed by their friends) was something that Castiel and Dean had put into place since the moment they knew they wanted this boy as their own. Baby Winchester (another thing helpfully named by their friends), or Baby W for short, was watched around the clock, no matter the time; twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Their friends and family were all in on it, taking long eight hour shifts, one at a time, to watch the boy and make sure that he was as safe as he could be. Of course, Dean and Castiel paid each ‘babysitter’ handsomely for their time.

Castiel both loved and hated when it was his turn to ‘babysit’. He absolutely adored watching his boy, and could do it for hours on end; but it was devastating because he couldn’t interact with him just yet, he couldn’t provide for him, and sometimes the things he had to watch him do sent him home to Dean, bawling his eyes out.

Today though, today had been a good day. Well, as good as things could currently get for Baby W. Castiel had taken over babysitting duty from Dean’s best friend, Benny, and had arrived two hours after the boy had woken. Baby W had cleaned his apartment for a little, and Castiel had sat in his car down on the street, marking maths homework from his 4th grade class. Around lunch time, Baby W had left his apartment block and had gone for a stroll around the park – Castiel had watched him fondly from a distance, unable to help the soft smile that graced his lips as he watched the boy bask in the winter sunshine. When the bitter cold became too much to handle, even with the thin raincoat he wore to try and keep the weather at bay, Baby W turned around and went back home. The rest of the day involved reading to escape reality, and blankets to keep him warm.

Castiel felt guilty, sitting in his car on the street with the heating warming him inside and out, while his baby was upstairs freezing because he couldn’t afford to turn the radiators on.

As his eight hour shift began to come to a close, Castiel realised that he hadn’t seen Baby W eat anything all day, and a quick text to Benny confirmed that the boy hadn’t eaten that morning either, and Castiel’s worry doubled. He couldn’t wait until he didn’t have to worry over such things and could instead worry over diaper uses and snotty noses.

A knock on the passenger side window made him jolt. He tore his eyes away from the boy he could just see through the window, to find Charlie waiting outside the car. Her long, red hair flowed behind her in the wind, pressed down under a warm woolly hat. Her neck was surrounded by a fashionable scarf and peeking through it was a huge smile. She waved eagerly before yanking the car door open.

“Hiya there, Papa Bear!” She greeted enthusiastically.

Castiel shivered at the sudden rush of icy air and quickly waved Charlie in. Charlie clambered into the car, pulling the door shut behind her, effectively shutting out the winter night. She rubbed her gloved hands together and looked more than ready to take on the babysitting night shift.

“Dorothy’s running late at work,” Charlie explained, pulling the gloves off her hands and holding her pink fingers up against the warm air blowing out from the vents. “So, she was going to drive down here and meet me as soon as she’s finished. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Castiel smiled. For the next few minutes, both Castiel and Charlie engaged in chatter and banter, exchanging small talk and gossip that they’d picked up since the last time they’d met, only yesterday. They gushed over the ring that Dorothy had brought Charlie ( _“No, Cas; it’s not a wedding ring!”_ ) and babbled about the boy in the apartment above them. Cas mentioned how the babe hadn’t eaten anything all day, and Charlie promised to let him know as soon as he ate anything during her watch.

After a moment, it fell silent between them. It was peaceful as they both watched the second window from the left, on the third floor. They watched as Baby W untangled himself from underneath all of his blankets and stood. He stretched and yawned before taking the few steps needed to reach the window. Both Castiel and Charlie looked on as Baby W glanced out the window and down the street before pulling the curtains closed for the night.

“Are you excited?”

Charlie’s voice made him jump. It had been so quiet between them that he had almost forgot she was there.

Castiel didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The excited smile, the shine of nervousness in his eyes was all the answer the red-head needed.

“This time tomorrow he’ll be in your arms.”

Castiel smiled so wide that Charlie could see the white of his teeth glistening from the overhead lamppost. He was obviously picturing the scene, that in under 24 hours Baby W would officially be _theirs_.

A fraction of a second later, Castiel’s smile faltered.

“What?” Charlie asked, voice dropping all cheerfulness it had previously held. “What is it?”

“Charlie, what if I’m not good enough?”

“Excuse me?” Charlie balked. “Not good enough? _Thee_ Castiel Novak not good enough?” She tutted and shook her head. “Are we talking about the same person?”

Castiel said nothing. His eyes were trained again upon the window on the third floor, where he couldn’t see anything but a shadow, a silhouette through the curtains as his boy walked around his one room apartment. He was desperate to have his baby at home with both him and Dean, where he belonged. He was desperate to have his baby safe and sound and away from harm. He was desperate to shower his baby with all the love he deserved. And he was desperate to make sure his baby got everything he never got the first time around. But that didn’t stop him worrying about whether or not he was going to be a good daddy to his baby.

Charlie could see all these thoughts and feelings flickering across her friend’s face and spun slightly in the passenger seat to look at him head on.

“Cas,” She started, her voice light but with a hint of sternness. “You’re going to be _brilliant_! More than brilliant! You’re going to be everything this kid could ever wish for! It might take him a while to realise that, but it’s what’s true.”

Castiel still said nothing and began chewing on the skin around his fingernails. It was a habit of his and Charlie knew it meant he still wasn’t sure, that he was still nervous and unconvinced.

“You need the proof?” Charlie giggled, thinking back to the few things that Castiel had done for them all. “For starters, you’ve grown up in Heaven your whole life. You’ve watched Chuck with Lilith from the moment you were born.”

Castiel scoffed as he pictured his father’s little. As he’d grown up, he’d had to fight tooth and claw against the Little and his two elder brothers. For a while, Lilith had been allowed to ‘grow up’ alongside Castiel, but as soon as he had reached school age, Chuck had regressed Lilith again and for the longest time possible, she’d been a baby. From that moment on, Castiel had been fascinated with her and his father had began teaching him everything about their community and their lifestyle ever since.

“I know that by the time you were ten, you knew everything you could about this lifestyle. That by the time you were 12 your father trusted you enough to care for Lilith while he dealt with business for a few hours. That by the time you were 15 you were booked weeks in advance for babysitting. That when you turned 18, everyone was devastated when they found out you were leaving the community to go to university.”

Castiel remembered that time very vividly. For the longest time, people thought that once he’d got a taste of the ‘outside’, he wouldn’t want to come back. But as desperate as Castiel was to become a teacher, he’d longed to come back to Heaven from the moment he’d left. The welcoming he’d received when he’d returned had been beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Cas, when you heard that Hannah had to go in for that emergency operation, you took Alfie in without a second thought. You took care of him for 3 whole weeks while Hannah recovered, and a further 6 months after that, helping Hannah out for far longer than she needed. You raise thousands of dollars every year for the day care centre and the adoption agency. You’ve always got a smile on your face, a kind word on your lips and a little treat in your pocket. Cas, it doesn’t matter that it’s your father who runs this community; it’s you that everyone strives to be.”

The silence that settled around them after that was a thinking silence. Charlie watched as Castiel soaked in everything she had just told him, even though he knew every bit of it was the truth.

“You’ve cared for and worried about and loved this boy from the moment you laid your eyes on him. You’ve loved him more than I’ve ever seen you love anything else before; and that includes Dean!”

This made Castiel laugh; everyone knew how much he loved his husband.

“Cas, you’re going to make a brilliant Papa; don’t you for a second think otherwise!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who we finally get to meet next chapter!!!!


	3. Bread and Rice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just happened!! You're welcome!!

**Chapter Three**

When Sam had woken, he’d grabbed the few measly dollars sat on his bedside table and had trundled off to the corner shop to get some food. He hadn’t eaten all day yesterday, and he was feeling the effects of that today; he felt so sick and his poor tummy was cramping in agony, making it’s discomfort known with long, loud, drawn out, painful grumbles.

Almost right outside his apartment block, a gas company was setting up to carry out what looked like some routine maintenance work. He paid them no mind, stepped around them and all the while keeping his head down. The street Sam lived on wasn’t an overly safe place to live and Sam had learnt early on that the people around here didn’t like it when you even so much as glanced over them accidentally. It was easier and safer for Sam to keep himself to himself; so that’s what he did.

Once he’d purchased his rice and bread, he made his way home. He was shivering by the time he closed his front door, his thin raincoat doing nothing to keep the bitter wind off. He quickly wrapped himself up in his fluffiest blanket, aware that he couldn’t afford to turn the heating up and made himself breakfast consisting of a slice of toast and an almost manky banana. The rice he would have later, for his lunch and tea. The food helped stave off the hunger for the moment, and he settled down in his armchair (ignoring how it creaked in complaint under him from where it was falling to pieces) to face the one task that he dreaded doing every month. His finances.

For an hour, Sam scribbled away on the back of an envelope, crossing numbers out and jotting down new ones, trying and failing to come up with a way to make it all work.

Sam’s eyes welled up as he looked over the hastily scrawled numbers. He could swear that they were laughing at him, teasing him, mocking him. The way the total number at the bottom of the envelope stood out made him feel physically sick, in a way his hunger from earlier that morning hadn’t.

Sam was so fed up with it. Every month, without fail, he had more money going out than he had coming in, but this month took the cake. He couldn’t remember it ever being this bad before. He knew it had a lot to do with the lack of shifts at his little, zero-hour contract, café job. He wasn’t offered many hours as it was, but this past month he had only stepped foot in the place a grand total of two times. He _had_ been offered an unusual eight hour shift earlier that week but had turned it down for a job interview he’d managed to secure at his local supermarket. He’d thought he’d had it in the bag… but he hadn’t. Although his job at the café was barely scraping minimum wage, it still would have given him a nice eight-hours of pay in his pocket. Because he had turned it down though, he had nothing.

He sat at the table, chewing on the end of his pencil in regret.

“Shit,” He cursed to himself under his breath. He ran his hand through his longish hair, trying desperately to hold back the tears of desperation and frustration at his predicament. He didn’t want to, but he forced himself to look his finances over _again_ , to try and figure out just where he might be able to cut back to help himself. But there just wasn’t any room to budge.

A large chunk of his money was taken by his rent. He only lived in a one-room ‘apartment’. It wasn’t exactly overly habitual either; it was damp and mouldy, cold and dark, something was almost always broken, and the landlord patched most things up with some gorilla glue or duct tape. It always smelt and no matter how much Sam tried to clean it, the state of the place _never_ improved. Still, it was literally the only place he could afford at the moment, had been for over a year now. The landlord was a sleezy, smelly, balding guy who seemed to favour grunts over words, but he was… _accommodating_ … to Sam whenever he was struggling to pay his rent, even if it was in the most unconventional ways.

Sam had been lucky last month and hadn’t had to ask for ‘help’ from the guy. He’d felt ridiculously good about it too, and although it meant he’d had to cut back on his food shopping he’d been so chuffed with himself. A week after he’d paid the guy in full, Sam had received a letter in the post to tell him that his rent was going up; he could have cried.

_‘This Notice is to inform you that beginning on 31/11/19 the monthly rent for the unit you currently occupy will be increased.’_

And then underneath his landlords signature and scrawled in the man’s messy handwriting;

_‘If you need the help to make up the extra, my Sam, you know I’m more than willing to make allowances.’_

The message could easily be misinterpreted as kind, but Sam knew the hidden message. His landlord was ready to accept sex as payment; the more money Sam couldn’t find, the more the guy asked from him sexually.

Sam didn’t talk to many people in his apartment block, but the few he did had told him they hadn’t received any letter detailing any sort of rent increase. And so Sam had come to the conclusion that his landlord had only increased his rent because he’d missed out on a blowjob the month previously. Not only did that make him sick to his stomach, the way the guy had so clearly, lovingly, written _‘my Sam’_ in the letter made his skin crawl.

Sam pressed his eyes tightly together, pressing his blunt fingernails against his scalp, the pressure feeling good, even for a fraction of a second. He knew he was going to have to contact his landlord and ask for the help he had so _generously_ offered, because he couldn’t really see any other way that he could find the money to avoid it. He literally had no other option.

Sam fished out his cell phone; it was cheap and could literally only send and receive calls and texts. The only reason he had such a luxury was so that he could contact his landlord and so that his place of work could contact him. If he didn’t have to worry about such things, he wouldn’t even own a cell. They were far too expensive.

Sam couldn’t hold back anymore; a few stray tears spilled from his eyes and down over his cheeks. He brushed them away as he tapped out a two worded text message.

_‘Need help.’_

He knew the man would know exactly what he meant, and just as he expected, not even thirty seconds later, he had received a reply.

_‘I’m on my way.’_

Sam let himself cry for a few minutes, before he had to force himself to get a grip. He pushed himself out of the armchair, gathered the envelope filled with his scribbles and shoved it away in a draw where the sleezy man wouldn’t be able to see it and splashed cold water over his face.

Just as he was patting his cheeks dry, there was a resounding knock at his front door. He looked over at it, actually surprised at how quickly his landlord had arrived. He knew the guy was eager, but he hadn’t realised he’d been _that_ eager.

Placing the scratchy towel down he strolled across the small room with faked confidence. He took a deep breath, plastered a fake smile on his face and pulled the door open.

“Hey. Thanks for…”

He stopped. Stood at his front door wasn’t his creepy-as-hell landlord, but a man wearing a fitted suit and a hi-vis vest.

“Oh, sorry,” Sam apologised, wishing that he had taken a moment to check the peephole first. “I was expecting someone else…”

“My apologies,” The man spoke, his accent British. He sounded so sure of himself and Sam got the impression that he was a boss and used to getting what he wanted. “My name is Crowley…”

“I’m sorry,” Sam shook his head, holding his hand up to stop the man from going any further. “I’m not interested.”

“Sir,” The man pressed. “I’m not here to sell you anything. In fact, I’m here to inform you that we are evacuating this building.”

“What?”

“I work for Robinson’s Oil and Gas Inc. We’ve received reports recently from a few people who say they’re able to smell gas. We’ve come this morning to investigate the claims and have found that there is in fact a gas leak. We have to evacuate everyone within a two block radius.”

Sam briefly recalled walking past the gas company this morning and remembered thinking nothing off it.

“Could I see some ID, please?” Sam demanded, wanting to be sure that this guy was legit before he thrust his life into the man’s hands. Who knows, he could have snuck into this building to try and scare them all – get them all out of their homes in a hurry and then rob them of what little they all owed. He doubted that was the case though, as he could hear other people knocking on his neighbours doors and telling them the same. Still, he wanted to be certain.

The man wasted no time, thrusting his hand into his inside jacket pocket and producing an ID pouch which he held out to Sam. Sam took it carefully and opened it up. The ID didn’t look fake and clearly showed a picture of the man, his name Fergus Crowley on the badge and the company’s logo in the corner. He handed the identification back to the man.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure…” Sam trailed off.

“Of course, you are within your right to request my ID,” Crowley brushed him off. “But I really must insist – we need to get this building evacuated.”

“For how long?” Sam questioned, his panic retching up. He didn’t own much, but would he need to take everything with him? If he didn’t, would he ever see it again?

“It should only be for the night. If you could pack an overnight back as quickly as possible, we’ve got a taxi downstairs waiting to take you to a hotel.”

“But I can’t afford a hotel.”

Crowley sighed in what Sam could only describe as mounting frustration. He couldn’t blame the man – he had taken on the task of getting everyone to safety and Sam wasn’t exactly making his job easy. But, he argued with himself, he wasn’t doing it purposely.

“Mr…” Crowley trailed off.

“Wesson,” Sam supplied. “Sam Wesson.”

“Mr Wesson, we are not asking you to pay for the hotel. All expenses are covered, as the gas leak is not your fault. Now please, could you pack an overnight bag as quickly as possible.”

Sam spun on his heel and did just that. His tatty rucksack was barely filled with his change of clothes and his toothbrush. He grabbed his phone on the way back to the door, where Crowley was still waiting for him, sparing a quick thought to his landlord and how they were going to have to rearrange their ‘meeting’.

Crowley made no small talk as he led him quickly down the stairs of the building and out the front door. Sam couldn’t help the little smile that graced his lips at the thought of a hotel room for the night; with the small bottles of toiletries, a soft mattress and heating!

Crowley brought them to a stop outside of a yellow taxi. The gas company were still set up right outside the apartment block, but Sam took no notice to the fact that nothing extra had been done to the spot since he’d seen it that morning. The man helped him into the back seat and even fastened his seatbelt for him. Sam said nothing, too shocked to say anything at the weird behaviour.

“This taxi will take you straight to the hotel. They’re expecting you, so just state your name and they’ll show you to your room.”

Sam rolled down the window to ask one more question.

“And I’ll be able to come home tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Crowley smiled, and Sam got the instinct impression that the man knew something Sam didn’t. “This time tomorrow you’ll be right where you belong. Safe and sound at home.”

Sam frowned at the sudden sweet, babyish tone the man’s voice had taken on. It was almost patronizing.

“See you soon, Moose,” Crowley cooed, gently ruffling Sam’s hair and then patting the top of the taxi. The taxi took off with that, leaving Crowley behind on the street and Sam confused as to what had just happened.

Sam decided to forget all about the strange man and thought back to the fact that tonight he had somewhere nice and warm to look forward to, even if it was just for the night. He decided he was going to relax and enjoy it while he could.

He shifted around to sit properly in his seat but jumped out of his skin when he finally took notice of the figure sat next to him.

“Gah!” He cried, hands clutching his chest. “Who the fuck are you?”

“What you’re language, young man!” The man chastised. Sam barely noted that he too spoke with a British accent.

“Are you serious?” Sam scoffed. He shook his head, choosing not to push the matter. He repeated his question. “Who are you?”

“My name is Arthur Ketch,” The man supplied, his posh voice starting to grate on Sam’s nerves. “And it’s my job to ensure that this part of the plan goes as safely as possible.”

“This part of the…” Sam muttered to himself, trying to work out exactly what the man meant by that. “What?”

“Nothing to worry about,” The man smiled, and it was creepy. He pulled a bottle of water from the bag that was by his feet. “Can I offer you some water?”

Sam carefully and wearily took the bottle. He wasn’t really thirsty, but he had learnt to take anything that he was offered and so had taken it on impulse. Not wanting to appear rude, he unscrewed the lid and took a few sips to start with. It was only water, but it tasted so much better than anything he got out of his rusty tap back at his apartment that he found himself gulping the rest of it down in record speed. When the bottle was almost finished, he pulled it away from his mouth and took some deep breaths.

“Thanks,” Sam gasped through breaths. When the lid was back on the bottle, Sam placed it on the seat beside him. It was only then that Sam became aware of the bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

Ketch sat beside him, watching his every movement as if he was expecting something.

Sam’s mouth was suddenly really dry, his limbs too heavy to even contemplate lifting and he felt so, overwhelmingly tired. It had all come on so quickly that Sam started to think he’d been roofied.

“Wa’s’ya’doo?” Sam slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open. Everything was so blurry, and every sound was muffled.

Ketch was suddenly right next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Ge’o’mee,” Sam tried to sound firm, but he sounded as weak as a mouse. He was barely holding his head up now, and could feel the frustrated, panicked tears flowing from his eyes.

“There now,” Ketch shushed, his hand reaching out to brush the tears away. “Everything’s going to be okay, little one. Your Daddies are waiting for you at home, don’t you worry.”

Sam was so confused. He could feel himself losing his fight with consciousness fast. Before his eyes shut completely and he fell into a drug induced sleep, he managed to slur a final, one worded question.

“Da’ee?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome!! Thank you for your kind words!!  
> Also, not to be a buzz kill but updates wont be this frequent all the time. My muse for this story has just struck over the last few days and this is the result!! I hope you've enjoyed it!!  
> Next chapter Dean and Cas finally get their baby home where he belongs!!  
> (As usual, I will amend any mistakes over the next few days!!)


	4. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient guys!! And thank you so much for the wonderful feedback!! You guys rock!!

** Chapter Four **

Dean was pacing nervously. He kept glancing periodically down at his expensive wristwatch that Castiel had gifted him last Christmas, painstakingly watching the minutes tick past. He couldn’t help thinking about what was happening with his baby right this second and wondering whether everything was going to plan, or whether Crowley and his team had had to resort to the more drastic plan B. He hoped it hadn’t as plan B involved restraining Baby W and injecting the sedative; the poor babe was going to be scared enough as it was, let alone if he had to face Plan B.

Castiel sat at the kitchen table, blank lesson plans spread out around him. He had taken some unpaid family-leave from work for a few weeks, to help settle their babe, and had just last night (after his babysitting duty) passed everything over to the substitute teacher who was taking over his class until he returned after Christmas break. He didn’t need to even really _think_ about planning his lessons for January just yet, but he’d thought that if he got busy then time might whiz by and before he would know it, his baby would be home. But the anticipation was getting the better of him and he just couldn’t concentrate.

Dean sighed loudly, starting to grow impatient with all the waiting. He ran his hands over his hair and stormed over to the coffee pot. He poured himself a mug and took a few long, drawn out chugs of the drink as if it would calm him some; he didn’t seem to care that the coffee had been made a couple of hours previously.

“It’s too fucking quiet,” Dean grunted after a moment or two, looking over at his husband. The obvious observation made Castiel chuckle.

“Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it,” He commented, ignoring his husbands choice of language for the moment. The babe wasn’t home just yet, so Castiel could give the man some leeway while his nerves were fried, before he started scolding him for it. “As soon as the baby gets here, you’ll be begging for a moment’s peace.”

“You know what, I don’t even care,” Dean shook his head fondly, taking another sip of the lukewarm coffee. “Because all the fighting and tears are going to be so worth it in the end.”

Castiel smiled at that, because Dean spoke with such passion and belief, and Castiel believed him. It really was going to be completely worth it. They both knew that the next however long wasn’t going to be easy on either of them, let alone on poor Baby W. Every battle, every struggle, every argument would all prove to be utterly worth it when everything finally settled down and Baby W realised that he was right where he belonged.

“I can’t wait to hear his cute little giggle,” Castiel sighed happily, now absentmindedly tapping his pen on the table.

“And see his cute little tush in a diaper,” Dean gushed, heart melting already just at the thought.

“He’s going to have us wrapped around his little finger,” Cas laughed, picture all the ‘cute littles’ and all the firsts they were going to experience with their boy. It was going to be one hell of an adventure, but it was an adventure they were more than excited and ready to take on together.

A moment later, Castiel’s phone chimed with an incoming text message. It took a fraction of a second for the two men to fully register what it was and who it might be. Dean took a short intake of breath with anticipation as Castiel darted for his phone, which he had purposefully put in the furthest corner of the table where he couldn’t and wouldn’t be distracted by it.

“Who is it?” Dean breathed, before Castiel had even unlocked his phone. Castiel said nothing as he eagerly brought the message up.

“It’s Crowley,” Castiel hushed, eyes automatically scanning the short message. Dean said nothing; his mug was slammed on the kitchen table with more force than he intended, sending some of the coffee sloshing over the edge of the mug and all over Castiel’s blank lesson plans. Neither of them worried about it for the moment.

“What does it say?” Dean asked impatiently, even though he was already at his husbands side and reading the message over his shoulder.

“Delivery in T minus 10 minutes,” Castiel read, as if hoping saying it aloud would help it sink in quicker.

For a moment, neither Castiel nor Dean dared to even more. It didn’t feel quite real just yet. The moment they had been waiting for, for over six months now, was finally here. Their baby was on his way home.

“Shit! Dean cursed, running his hand down his face before breaking into a huge smile. Castiel tilted his head back slightly to look up at his husband who was still stood over him and shared his smile.

“It’s happening!” He exclaimed. “Oh God, it’s actually happening!”

Dean laughed at the other man’s rambling and took his head in his hands. He bent down and pressed his lips against Castiel’s in a long, desperate, sensual, upside-down, celebratory kiss that had Castiel’s heart skipping a beat, like always. Dean groaned against Castiel’s mouth when the man tugged his lip gently with his teeth, the sound vibrating against Castiel’s lips and travelling right through to his dick.

With that, Castiel pushed Dean away.

“Stop it!” He scolded, standing up and moving away from his husband. Dean was wearing his usual smug smirk but made no move to follow after the man. “You’re going to get me all worked up and then I’ll have to answer the door to Crowley and his men with a tent in my pants!”

“We’re going to have to get used to getting a few quickies in, eh?” Dean chuckled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Why not start practicing now?”

“Stop it!” Castiel reprimanded lightly, folding his arms and trying to look stern. He was unsuccessful, unable to help the small smirk blooming across his face at his husbands light teasing. Dean laughed again and Castiel playfully repeated himself. “Stop it! Clean up your coffee, for crying out loud!”

Dean’s huge smile never left his lips as he did just that, grabbing a tea towel to mop up the rapidly cooling coffee that he’d spilt over the table in his haste to hear about their baby. Dean half-heartedly apologised for the ruined lesson plans, for which Castiel brushed him off for he could easily just print more off. The lesson plans that were now forever ruined with coffee stains were gathered up and dumped in the recycling bin.

While Dean cleared up and finished what was left of his coffee, Castiel tided away the rest of his things that hadn’t been ruined.

Before they knew it, the ten minutes had past and their doorbell rang loud and clear around their quiet house.

Castiel and Dean froze and slowly turned to look at each other. They hesitated for a moment too long as the doorbell rang a second time for slightly longer. They sprang into action, both of them scrambling around the table to get to the door.

The silhouette they could make out through the frosted glass window of the front door was undoubtedly Crowley.

Dean unhooked the chain and twisted the key to unlock the door, while Castiel grabbed the simple, grey and white striped blanket that he had draped over the table by the front of the door, ready for this moment.

“Ready?” Dean whispered, holding out his hand for Castiel to take.

“Ready,” Castiel nodded, his voice just as quiet as he took Dean’s hand. Dean squeezed once in support; they were going to do this together.

“About time,” Crowley scoffed, light heartedly when Dean finally opened the door. He glanced down to the couple’s intertwined fingers and smiled softly before looking back up at their faces. “You took so long answering the door that I thought you’d changed your mind.

“Where’s my baby?” Castiel demanded, ignoring Crowley and glancing around him instead, to the yellow taxi and the black Audi parked on their large drive next to Dean’s pride and joy, a 1967 Chevy Impala, and their new large, family SUV (another Chevy, as Dean would settle for nothing less). He paid little attention the man he recognised as Arthur Ketch who stood beside the taxi.

Crowley smirked at the protective, fatherly tone from his client. A glance over Dean’s features told him that the other man was wondering the same. They were going to make brilliant parents, of that Crowley had no doubt.

The man in the black suit, nodded his head back towards the cars.

“He’s sleeping,” Crowley informed them. Castiel and Dean weren’t fooled, they knew that the boy had been given a sedative, but it had all been part of the plan. “C’mon; I’ll show you.”

Castiel stepped forward as soon as the shorter businessman stepped away and towards the yellow taxi. His hand slid from Dean’s as his husband took a moment to take a shuddery, nervous breath to ready himself before he too took after them.

“Ready to meet your baby?” Crowley asked, his voice a little more upbeat than it usually was. This was, after all, his most favourite part of the job. When he received exciting nods, both men clearly speechless, Crowley pulled open the back door of the taxi.

And there he was. Their baby. Their perfect little bundle of job.

He was slumped in the seat, out for the count with his head lulled forward. His chin rested on his chest as he slept and he made tiny cute, tiny little snuffily noises with each intake of breath.

Castiel gasped, overcome with how adorable the picture was, and Dean’s face lit up like never before. The two looked at each other, having a silent conversation. They hadn’t actually discussed this bit – who was going to be the first to pick him up; and neither wanted to snatch the opportunity away from the other.

“Go on,” Dean encouraged his husband after he moment. He wasn’t hurt or upset; he could tell this moment meant so much to Castiel that he felt honoured to let him have it.

Castiel needed no more persuasion. He handed the blanket he still held to his husband and rushed forward. Dean was beside him and placed a comforting hand on the small of his back. Castiel reached out to touch the boy but hesitated for just a moment. This was the first time he would touch his babe, and he wanted it to be special. With his decision made, he reached out and with such gentleness, he combed his fingers through the baby’s hair.

“Oh, Sammy; hi!” He cooed, voice no higher than a whisper, as if scared he would wake the poor thing. With quick, practiced movements, he unclipped the babe’s seatbelt and shifted him into his arms, lifting him out of the car in a bridal hold so delicate it was as if he was carrying a porcelain doll.

“Look at him,” Dean gushed, just as quietly as his husband. He bent slightly and pressed a soft, chase kiss to the baby’s forehead.

“Here,” Dean spoke now to his husband, slinging the blanket over his shoulder for a moment and helping the other man shift the baby until he was pressed chest to chest to Castiel, with his face resting in the crook of the man’s neck. They were especially careful with his right arm as his wrist was still encased in a cast from the accident he’d had a few weeks previously. Castiel’s arms wrapped tightly and securely around the boy, who, in his opinion, was far too light. He could feel his backbone, and it was terrifying.

“The blanket,” Castiel ordered lightly, but Dean was already reaching for it. He draped it over their baby and tucked it in, making sure that it wasn’t going to fall. The early December morning was far too chilly for their baby to be outside in nothing more than a scratchy old jumper and ratty old jeans.

Dean cupped the back of Sammy’s head, fingers pushing gently through the boy’s long hair, and pressed another kiss to his hair. Castiel knew that Dean wasn’t going to be able to stop showering their baby in kisses, and he didn’t think he would be much better. But, if anyone deserved the love, it was their Sammy.

“How did it go?” Dean asked Crowley, finally turning back to the caseworker. They wanted to know _everything_.

“He’s a little stubborn,” Crowley mused with a chuckle as he remembered back to an hour previously. “And curious. Trying to get him to hurry took some convincing. He asked for my ID.”

“I knew he would,” Castiel hushed, glad that he had pushed Crowley to get a fake gas company identification for this plan. Their baby had had his trust broken too many times to believe the words of just any stranger knocking on his door.

“Did you get any trouble apart from stubbornness?” Dean chuckled, thinking about, the fights they were going to have, even when Baby W was fully settled.

“No; not on my end,” Crowley shook his head. “Ketch?”

All eyes turned to look at the man who still stood on the other side of the taxi, arms crossed and resting against the yellow metal. He lazily held up one finger.

“One swear,” He shrugged. “But other than that, he was as good as gold. You know, I don’t think I’ve had a collection go so smoothly before.”

Castiel and Dean beamed with pride.

“Thank you so much gentlemen,” Castiel spoke to them both, gently swaying. He knew that the motion wouldn’t do anything for the babe at the moment, but it was almost an innate move when he had a baby in his arms, having held so many before.

“I’m glad I could help,” Crowley spoke humbly. “I’ll let you get on and start settling him. I’ll be in touch with a follow up appointment soon.”

“Thank you so much Crowley,” Dean echoed his husbands words, holding out his hand for the man in the suit to shake. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“No, you couldn’t,” Crowley chuckled with a shake of his head. “Don’t forget; it’s a short acting sedative. Give it half hour and he’ll be stirring.”

The next few minutes were filled with hurried thank you’s and goodbye’s before Crowley and Ketch got back into their cars and drove away.

Carrying Baby W up the steps and over the threshold of the Winchester house was surreal. Dean pushed the door shut, locked it again and slid the chain across. Waiting to be activated on all the doors and windows leading to outside were fingerprint locks, only recognising Dean and Castiel so that the baby couldn’t ‘accidentally’ get outside and hurt himself. With a few quick taps on his smart phone, they all bleeped as they sprang into action. Sammy might be in a drugged induced sleep, but that didn’t mean the new parents couldn’t take any chances.

“Welcome home, Sammy,” Castiel spoke softly and quietly to the boy still sleeping in his arms. He turned in a circle, as if taking in the space for the first time again, through different eyes. “In this house, you’ll know nothing but warmth, kindness and love. So, so much love.”

Dean silently stepped up to them and cradled his baby’s head in his hand again. His other hand, he placed on his husbands shoulder.

“We promise,” He whispered, sealing Castiel’s words with another kiss to the baby’s head.

Castiel felt his eyes filling with tears. He smiled, because they were definitely happy tears, and closed his eyes, trying and failing to stop them from falling. Dean’s thumb caught the first few, and Castiel looked up at his taller husband with wide, wet eyes.

“We’ve done it!” He choked out with a surreal laugh. Dean beamed back at him, finding the man’s smile contagious. “We’ve finally got our baby.”

“Our baby,” Dean echoed. “Our little Sammy.”

The two new daddies stood in their hallway for a few more minutes, in pure silence as they basked in their little bundle of joy. He was completely and utterly perfect and he was already loved far more than the poor thing would ever be able to comprehend. It wasn’t until baby Sammy hummed in his sleep that the two men snapped back to reality. Dean and Castiel held their breaths for a second, waiting to see whether the babe was going to wake a little sooner than Crowley had predicted, but the poor thing just nuzzled right back into his Papa’s shoulder and carried right on snoozing.

“The Doc’ll be here soon,” Dean commented.

“We ought to bath him,” Castiel added. “Before she gets here.”

With a nod, Dean carefully reached out to take the bundle from Castiel. The slightly shorter man let the baby go easily, guiding the sleeping figure into Dean’s arms. He could easily have been selfish and kept hold of Sammy, but it wasn’t fair on Dean. And, seeing their baby in Dean’s arms sated Castiel; he was looking right at his whole world, and he felt a sudden surge of protectiveness.

Castiel led the way up the stairs and into the bathroom. While he ran a shallow bath of water and bubbles, Dean worked at stripping their baby of any signs from his previous life. The bath, also, would help with that.

This was going to be a new beginning for little baby Samuel Winchester.

-TM-

There was a fizzing, a popping, right in his ear. It was soft and calming.

There were large, soft hands touching him. He couldn’t tell how many, but there was definitely more than two, which meant more than one person. He was supported around his neck and shoulders by an arm, and it took him an embarrassingly long moment to realise that he was in water. Shallow water, but water none the less. And now he thought about it, he could smell lavender and feel hard plastic on his lower back, his ass and his legs. He thought briefly that he must be in a bath, however he didn’t question how he had got there. He wasn’t quite with it enough to even think such a thing, let alone try and work it out.

There was soft talking from above him; two voices. He couldn’t hear what they were saying over the quiet fizzing still in his ear, but they sounded nice.

Slowly, so, so slowly, Sam cracked his eyes open. The first flicker of sunlight blinded him, and he blinked sluggishly until he was used to it and would open his eyes further. The first thing he saw, out of the corner of his eye were bubbles. Bath bubbles. He was led on a pillow of them, and he guessed, that explained the calming fizzing and popping sound he could hear so clearly. He flicked his gaze away from the bubbles before he got transfixed with them and let his eyes rest on the very white and very clean ceiling above him. That meant he wasn’t in his apartment, as his bathroom ceiling (in fact, all of his ceilings) were a discoloured yellow and quickly growing mould.

“Look,” One of the voices hushed.

The ceiling vanished from his sight abruptly and was replaced with a smiling man. Sam wasn’t sure from this angle, but he could swear he recognised him from somewhere. His brain was still not functioning completely properly, so he didn’t ponder on it for too long.

“Hi Sammy,” The man shushed. “Daddy and Papa are right here baby.”

Another man was in his line of sight now, just behind the first man. Again, Sam thought he might have seen the man somewhere, but couldn’t care enough right now to try and place him or pick him out from his memories.

“It’s okay Sammy,” The second man cooed. “Daddy and Papa are just getting you all cleaned up before the Dr gets here, hmm?”

Sam could hear their words and understand them, but he wasn’t taking any of it in. He just couldn’t focus on them. Instead, his attention was on the horrible aftertaste in his suddenly dry mouth. He smacked his lips together lethargically, trying to make sense of everything. His sight was starting to get blurry again and he was exhausted. Thinking took too much of his energy. He let his eyelids flutter closed.

“Poor baby,” Sam could hear the second man speak. “The drugs mustn’t have worn off just yet.”

Oh, he’d been drugged. That explained a lot, Sam thought. He didn’t wonder, however, why that didn’t alarm him as much as it probably should have.

The first man hummed in response.

“Crowley did say it would be roughly half hour. It has only been 20 minutes. He’ll be coming around properly soon; won’t you my lad?”

The words were followed with a kind wave of water up his chest, soft hands rubbing into his tummy. If Sam was in his right mind, he would have pushed the two men away and would have been making a run for it. He knew he shouldn’t feel safe and warm here, but he did; and the motion of the water was lulling him back to sleep. It was just easier to let it.

Just as Sam was drifting back off, he was roughly pulled from his sleep as kind hands slid under his arms and gently lifted him from the water. He groaned his complaint, unable to do much more without the thought power or with how dry his mouth was.

He fought to open his eyes a fraction to see what was going on. The first man chuckled.

“I know, I know,” He spoke softly, and led him down on the bathroom floor, on top of a luxuriously soft towel. “Daddy’s so mean taking you out of the nice warm bath to dry you off, huh?”

Sam just grumbled in response, unable to do anything else. He just wanted to sleep.

The man patted him dry with a second towel, just as soft and cosy as the one he was led on. Sam didn’t fight it, just let it happen. He didn’t think that it was weird that he had just been bathed in a bath that wasn’t his own, let alone in his own bathroom, by two grown men (who he was naked in front of) that kept calling themselves Daddy and Papa. He didn’t even flinch when the man made sure to get every crease around his groin.

The man spoke to him throughout, his voice kind and caring, but the words just floating around Sam and meaning nothing. He let himself close his eyes, desperate to drop back off to sleep.

There were fingers at his right arm next. They were warm and gently, but it made Sam jump. His eyes snapped open and he looked down to see what was happening.

The man was shushing him, but his fingers kept working until they successfully pulled away the special plaster-cast protector bag that was around his right wrist. He’d had one of them at his apartment; but he hadn’t paid for it. Whoever had been kind enough to pay for his medical bills had; otherwise he would have been washing with just a plastic shopping bag over his arm for the past few weeks and hoped that it had kept his plaster cast dry.

Once the protector was removed, the man placed it to the side and once again slid his hands under Sam’s arms and hoisted him into the air. He cradled Sam’s head against his shoulder, apparently not caring that a grown man was naked and up against him. Sam didn’t care right now either, so let it go; nor did he worry or even think about the fact that this man was carrying him.

He was so close to dropping back off to sleep, the motion of the man walking soothing him and rocking him into a doze. But again, he was robbed of the chance to sleep when the man began lowering him down onto something soft, plasticky and cold.

The man moved out of his sight, and the second man stepped up beside him. Sam groaned and grumbled as he was moved about. It wasn’t until the second man was holding his legs in the air and was sliding something soft and fluffy underneath him that he registered his words.

“We gotta get your diaper on, baby,” He was cooing. Sam didn’t respond, but the man carried on as if Sam had replied. “That’s right, your diaper. It will keep Papa’s baby nice and dry and safe from accidents so Papa’s little Sammy can just keep right on playing. That will be nice, right?”

Sam just blinked at him dumbly, not really grasping much but the word ‘diaper’. He moaned and groaned again, letting his head fall back against the mat he was led on. The soft item underneath his ass was quickly, efficiently and professionally pulled up between his legs and tapped securely around his waist. The second man bent down and pressed a kiss just below Sam’s belly button before the first man came into his line of sight once again, holding clothes.

Sam let them manipulate his heavy limbs into the cosy onesie and only groaned again when he was lifted from the mat again.

“Poor Sammy. You just want to sleep, don’t you baby?”

Sam wanted to scream and shout, because _yes_! That’s exactly what he wanted.

“Papa’s sorry, baby,” The second man shushed, settling down in a rocking chair and arranging Sam until he was led across his lap, with his head in the crook of this man’s arm. “Daddy and Papa have kept you awake all this time. Our poor tired boy.”

“Daddy’s got a bottle,” The first man sing-songed. “A nice yummy bottle for Daddy’s precious boy.”

A soft kiss, this time from the first man was placed on Sam’s forehead and his large fingers brushed through Sam’s hair.

“You must be _so_ hungry, eh, Sammy?” The second man shushed, the bottle now in his hand.

Sam just blinked, because he was. His poor tummy always ached with hunger, and he briefly thought of the bread and rice he had brought for his lunch earlier that morning… if it had been earlier that morning.

Sam jarred back to himself as a large plastic nib was gently slid into his mouth. Without thinking, he began sucking on it eagerly. Before, when he’d had friends, he’d been invited to this girls baby shower. He couldn’t even remember her name now, but one of the games had been to see who could drink a whole beer from a baby’s bottle the fastest. Sam had given it a go, and he’d actually won. The bottle he was drinking from now though was nothing like the bottle from the baby shower. For one, the nib was so much bigger and almost completely filled Sam’s mouth, pushing right up against the roof of his mouth. Secondly, instead of the bitter bite of cheap beer flowing out of the bottle and into his tummy it was a warm, thick, sweet milk and it had him craving more.

“There,” The second man shushed, tipping the bottle just right, not wanting Sam to take in any air. “Good boy, Sammy.”

“Sleep now,” The first man shushed, hand still in his hair. Sam couldn’t deny the calling and listened to the voice. His eyes fell shut without a moment’s hesitation, his cheeks and tongue still working at the bottle in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay; question.  
> I want both Dean and Castiel to have a pet name for Sam. They will almost always call him 'Sammy' as to me, that name is far more infantile than Sam or Samuel, so by calling him Sammy all the time would go to helping Sam feel 'Little'. But I also want the two Daddies to have a pet name for him too; something different for each of them.  
> For example, in Lean On Me (my other infantilism story) Papa Castiel calls Little Dean his "honey-bee".  
> I wanted to get your guys opinions on what they should both call Sam!!  
> Also, let me know whether there's anything you might like to see happen in this story!! If I can, and it works, I'll try and fit it in!!  
> Thank you guys!! <3 <3


	5. The Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys!!!! How have I not updated anything since August?? Like jeez, where did that time go?? Seriously - I apologise for the long delay in.... everything.... but I honestly hadn't realised it had been that long.  
> I had a bit of a blip in my writing where I just lost my muse for a little (oh, I had the ideas, but I just couldn't get them down no matter how hard I tried) and then I went on a bit of an "I need to sort my life out" jaunt. So, yeah. I mean, I still got a long way to go with that - but things are on the up!! *YAY* But, you don't care about that!! You want to read the almost 6k chapter I wrote!! I hope you enjoy this!!

** Chapter Five **

The bottle they’d given Sammy wasn’t drugged, but the baby didn’t fight the sleep that called to him, thanks to the lingering hold that Crowley’s drug still had on him. When the bottle was empty and the baby was well and truly asleep again, the two new Daddies laid him down in his brand-new crib with reassurances and promises of love and warmth and safety, sealed with soft kisses to his forehead and gentle fingers through his hair.

Dean quickly snapped a picture of the sleeping babe before he began to put measures into place to ensure that Sammy couldn’t go walk-about if he happened to wake up. As he double checked that the lid of the crib was securely locked, Castiel triple checked that the baby monitor was working and that the cameras feed was successfully broadcasting to his phone when he requested it. As soon as they were sure that Sammy was as safe as he possibly could be, they dimmed the lights of the nursery and tip-toed out of the room.

The two of them took the stairs as silently as they could, even though they knew that the baby was still sleeping off Crowley’s drugs and probably wouldn’t wake for anything just yet. As soon as they were back in the kitchen, where they had eagerly spent the morning awaiting the completion and the start of their little family, the two new Daddies turned to each other and started talking and cooing about everything that had happened in the last half an hour. They both laughed at their simultaneous reactions and then embraced in a way that felt more like family and home and love that it ever had before.

“I can’t believe it,” Castiel continued to gush, the smile on his face huge as he took a seat back at the dining table. “Our baby is actually home! He’s right there, just up the stairs!”

“I love him so much already,” Dean chortled with glee as he leant against the kitchen side and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

Castiel agreed wholeheartedly, laughing in delight, hiding his face in his hands. Both men were finding it hard to gain control of their ridiculously happy and elated emotions.

“Look at this picture I snapped of him,” Dean cooed, turning his cell towards his husband and showing the man the sleeping form of their freshly re-birthed baby boy.

‘Re-birthed’ was the official term of a Little being welcomed into their forever home for the very first time, and neither Castiel or Dean had thought that this day would ever come.

“Oh my gosh!” Castiel gasped, his heart melting at the angle Dean had captured of their baby. Sammy was all wrapped up in his green, fluffy, dinosaur onesie and snuggled under his grey and white blanket. “Send it to me!”

“I’m sending it to everyone,” Dean spoke proudly, puffing his chest out as he began tapping away at his phone screen to do just that.

As soon as Castiel received the photo message from his husband he saved it and set it as his lock screen so his heart could melt from cuteness every time, he looked at his phone.

Dean’s phone had begun bleeping and vibrating with a sudden influx of texts and messages from family and friends, each one professing how cute the baby was and extending their congratulations. Smirking down at his phone, Dean ignored them all for now, put his cell on silent and put it down on the kitchen side beside him.

After that, the two Daddies spent time talking over what the future was going to hold, and the rules they were going to be putting into place, regarding their little bundle of joy who they could see through the video feed of the baby monitor that was still sleeping soundly. Together they made up the next few days’ worth of bottles for the boy, using a blue coloured lid for half the bottles that contained the all-important sleeping drug that they were no doubt going to need to rely on for at least the first month or so, until their baby had settled a little better.

Before they knew it, the doorbell was ringing. Dean left Castiel finishing up the last 3 bottles as he went and let the good Doctor in. Castiel smiled as he overheard little titbits of conversation between Dean and the kind woman, talking all about their boy. Dean led the Doctor into the kitchen so that Castiel could greet the woman.

“Donna,” He smiled as he screwed the blue lid on the last bottle. “You’re here!”

“Of course I am,” The happy-go-lucky woman scoffed, almost sarcastically, but with a playful smirk on her face. She placed her Doctor’s bag on the table with a soft ‘thud’ and observed the scene before her. “And you look like you’ve slipped right into the Papa Bear role.”

“Ha,” Dean snickered, agreeing with the Doctor. “You’ve only just noticed? Cas has been in Papa Bear mode from the moment he laid eyes on Sammy.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Donna teased right alongside Dean, even though, like all their family and friends, she had indeed known this.

Castiel smirked at the light mocking, choosing not to respond as he transferred the last of the made up bottles to the fridge to keep them chilled until they were needed. Donna was a good friend of both Castiel and Dean’s; she was also a great Little Doctor and that alone was the reason they had chosen her as their Sammy’s Doctor… their boy deserved the best, and Donna was just that.

The trio took a few minutes to make small talk before Donna got impatient and demanded to see the new baby.

“He’s gorgeous,” She cooed, taking a step back as Dean helpfully began unlocking and removing the lid from the crib. “Oh, just look at him!”

“He’s so precious,” Castiel clucked in agreement, happy to have someone else he could gush over the baby with. “And he’s loved so much already.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Donna hushed, stupidly happy for two of her good friends as she continued to watch Dean as the man now moved to lower the side of the crib for easier access and movement of the babe. The slick clicking of the crib had seemed to stir the baby and he was slowly coming around.

Dean perched himself carefully and gently on the edge of the mattress, able to do so now that the side of the crib was completely lowered.

“Hey Sammy,” He shushed kindly, barely paying any attention to the two other figures in the room. “It’s okay little-man, Daddy’s here.”

“Dean is completely smitten, isn’t he?” Donna observed, not stepping forward yet and letting the baby have this quiet moment with his Daddy.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, hanging back for the moment for exactly the same reason. “Me too,” He supplied helpfully. “Completely and utterly. And not just with the baby. Seeing Dean with Sammy? I didn’t think it was possible for me to love Dean any more than I already did, but as soon as I saw Sammy in his Daddy’s arm, I fell in love with Dean all over again.”

“You big sap,” Donna teased, with no real malice. Her heart grew in what felt like 10 sizes, just from that declaration.

_“Wha?...”_

The soft, gurgled voice was new to Donna, and instantly her attention was snapped to the baby who was blinking rapidly up at Dean as he tried desperately to make sense of his surroundings.

“This should be interesting,” Castiel commented off handily, clearly zoned in on the Little and his interaction with his new Daddy. “Although he was awake a little through his bath, he was still heavily under the influence of Crowley’s drug. He’ll be coming out the other side now.”

“Don’t you worry Castiel,” Donna chuckled, recognising the apologetic tone in Castiel’s voice and understanding what he was trying to politely say. “I’ve dealt with plenty of fussy babe’s in my time.”

Castiel smirked softly, not once taking his eyes away from his baby. Dean was now talking to Sammy so quietly that neither Donna or Castiel could hear what he was saying now. The man was gentle as he slid his hands under the Little’s arms and carefully lifted him from the mattress and into his arms.

~ TRUST ME ~

Sam didn’t know that it was the clicking of the crib unlocking that woke him. In fact, he didn’t even know that he was _in_ a crib.

He did know, however, that it was taking him a bit longer than normal for him to come back to himself and wake completely. He grumbled and complained with little huffs and grunts as he felt the last dregs of sleep wash away with each breath.

“Hey Sammy,” A voice hushed down at him, effectively grasping his attention. He blinked twice at the man, unsure just what was going on and who exactly this man was. He was sure that he recognised him from somewhere, but it wasn’t from the bath he had received just under an hour ago because he simply didn’t have any memory of such a thing happening. “It’s okay little-man, Daddy’s here.”

 _Daddy?_ Who was this man and who the hell did he think he was?

“What?” Sam spoke; or at least, he tried to. It didn’t come out sounding quite right, and his voice was quiet and slurred from disuse.

“That’s right,” The man above him continued. “Everything’s going to be okay, huh? Daddy promises.”

The man had to be delusional if he thought he was Sam’s father. Sam’s _actual_ Dad had passed away when he’d been 14 from a heart attack. The only positive constant in his life snatched away from him, leaving him to his alcoholic, heroin-crazed mother and her abusive boyfriend. But that was all too deep and too emotional to really think of right now, and Sam found that his thoughts weren’t exactly staying on track at the moment either.

Sam wanted to ask the man who he was and what he wanted, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the words out. Instead, he wanted away from the crazy man, and although his limbs were unusually heavy, he attempted to use them to push himself away from the man. But he wasn’t going anywhere; the mattress below him was far too soft and his limbs just wouldn’t cooperate with him.

“Oh, look at you,” The man shushed, his fingers weaving through Sam’s hair.

“Piss off!” Sam spat, trying to raise his hands to shove the man off. He grew more and more frustrated when his hand barely patted the man’s arm and the curse he’d attempted to throw at him came out as garbled nonsense.

The man shushed him as if he was fussing and suddenly his hands (which Sam was only now realising how large they were) slotted underneath his arms and hoisted him from the mattress and into his arms with barely any effort.

Sam tried to complain and push away, but the man still had no problems manhandling him into the position he wanted, which happened to be sat against his hip as if he was a tired toddler. Sam tried to pull away, but every attempt, every movement was fruitless. And then the man stood, and the feeling of vertigo hit Sam like a bus and had him crying out in shock and latching onto the man in desperation and panic at the thought of being dropped.

“Put me down!” Sam demanded, pleased when his words, although still muddled, were starting to become clearer. The man certainly had no problems understanding him, and chuckled at him. The laugh wasn’t unkind, instead it was fond and caring.

“No, Bubba,” The man spoke, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Sam’s head and guided it with no effort, until Sam was forced to rest it against the man’s shoulder. “My Sammy is far too little to walk right now, okay?”

“No!” Sam spat, trying to push his head up off of the man, but he was still weak. Sam was starting to work out that maybe, just maybe, he’d been drugged. But when and where? He couldn’t think straight and trying to remember what he last remembered was making his head hurt – and besides, he currently had more pressing matters to deal with. “Put me down!”

“Are you being a fussy boy for your Daddy?”

Sam’s eyes snapped to where the new voice had come from. It was another man, slightly shorter than the one who was currently holding him. And, again, Sam was sure he recognised him from somewhere, but was unable to place exactly where.

The man smiled wide when he realised he had Sam’s full attention.

“There he is,” The man cooed, his voice sickly sweet as if he was talking to a pet or a baby. Sam had lost his voice, but this time because he simply couldn’t find the words to describe how frustrated and confused he was in this weird-as-fuck situation. “Come to Papa, Kitten.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam cried out when he was moved from the first man’s arms to the second’s, not having time to process the fact that the second man had called himself ‘ _Papa_ ’. “No, no, no! Put me down! Put me down, right now!”

“My, my,” The second man hummed, bouncing his arms (and effectively, Sam) in what he probably thought was a calming motion. It made Sam panic and throw his arms around the man’s neck in worry he was going to fall. He didn’t like heights or any height, god damn it! “You really are a fussy baby; hey, Kitten?”

“What the hell is going on?” Sam dry sobbed as the second man started walking across the room, causing Sam to clutch him even tighter. “Stop! Stop! Please! Put me down!”

“Come on Bubba,” The first man hushed and Sam became aware that they had stopped and the first man was still right beside him. “The Doctor’s just going to check you over for us real quick, okay? Make sure our little baby is happy and healthy.”

“Doctor?” Sam mused in a blind panic, hearing the words before he processed them.

“I’m going to check his weight first,” A new voice spoke. It was a woman and Sam desperately tried to turn his head to locate her. “I’ve gone ahead and placed the scales underneath his changing mat. If you wanna lay him down on it, we can get started and hopefully get this over with before we have any real trouble.”

 _Scales? Changing mat?_ Sam was so confused and he just wanted to go back to his rundown apartment, where he could snuggle under the blankets and forget all about this horrible nightmare. He didn’t need see no Doctor. He wasn’t a baby. And these men were complete and utter lunatics. They’d be lucky if Sam decides not to report them to the police when he gets out of here; this is kidnapping!

Sam couldn’t hold back the squawk or shock at the sudden movement, as he found himself slowly lowered down onto a soft surface. He became aware of the woman now, her stood right beside him. She smiled and cooed down at him as she pressed a few buttons just out of Sam’s line of sight. The second man was right beside his head, muttering words of praise down at him and running soothing fingers through his hair. Sam quickly looked between the two strangers, desperately trying to locate the first man so that he could began to assess when his next cause of action should be. But, as he did that, he got his first real look at the room.

Three of the walls were a warm white, but the largest wall of the room, opposite them, was black with a scattering of perfectly painted white stars. There was an overly large crib against the black wall which Sam worked out with horror was where he’d _just_ been laying. A rocking chair, that actually looked more like a rocking couch or something that could easily sit two grown men, maybe tree at a push was also in the room as well as a large toy box and an adult sized baby bouncer. There were a few other things dotted around, but Sam paid them no attention when his mind put two and two together and he realised that he was currently on a freaking changing table.

He pushed himself up in shock and tried to swing his legs over the edge of the table to hop down and get out of here, but the Doctor was ready for him, and her cool hands came to rest on either bicep, stopping him from moving any further.

“Get off me!” He cried, trying so hard to dislodge her hold on him that he didn’t even realise that his words were as clear as day again.

“Calm down sugar,” The woman’s voice was soft, as she also seemed to have no trouble keeping a hold of him. She moved out of the way suddenly, the second man now taking her place, his hands now being the ones that were holding him in place on the edge of the changing table.

“What happened baby?” The second man spoke softly. “Were you trying to look for Daddy, Kitten? Look he’s just -”

“Get the _fuck_ off of me, you creep!” Sam spat, raising his hands and pushing at the second man with force. He hadn’t been expecting it to work, so when the man stumbled backwards, his hands letting go of Sam in haste to try and balance himself, Sam took an unexpected moment to be shocked.

“Castiel!” The Doctor called out to him, and Sam stored the name away for later knowledge. Even though the second man, Castiel, had managed to right himself before he could fall, the Doctor still hurried after him.

The first man, who Sam still didn’t know the name of, was in front of Sam in the blink of an eye, taking Castiel’s place. In his hand was a grey and white striped blanket that he threw almost carelessly onto the changing mat before he himself took hold of Sam. But, instead of large hands on his biceps, they wrapped firmly around his wrists; the hand around his right one slightly more gentle as if the man actually cared about the still mending bones that laid underneath the plaster cast he now held.

“Let go of me!” Sam hissed, tugging uselessly now, and not getting anywhere because he had shown them he was getting his strength back and they were now prepared for it.

“Are you alright Cas?” The man asked over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off of Sam.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel’s gruff voice replied, sounding exactly that. Sam was almost smug now; with two names he could supply the police with. “I just wasn’t quite expecting that reaction.”

“Good; you asshole!” Sam spat in his direction, winching when the first man, Dean, tugged on his wrists to refocus his attention on him. Sam looked back at the man, actually surprised to see the hard, unrelenting look in the man’s green eyes.

“Not cool, little boy,” Dean scolded heavily, and Sam couldn’t help the gulp or the rise of his shoulders in an attempt to hide. The man had barely started lecturing and Sam already felt heavily chastised. “Not cool at all. I should soap your mouth out for your language and put you over my knee right here for pushing Papa like that!”

“No,” Sam hushed in horror, not short of begging. He did _not_ want that to happen, not even in the slightest, but he had no doubts that the man would do such a thing. If they weren’t above kidnapping, then they could easily dole out a spanking. “Please…”

“As it is,” Dean continued, as Castiel came to stand just to the left of Dean. “Daddy knows you’re scared. But it won’t slide again, little boy.”

Sam had less than a minute to let the promise of punishment sink in before be became acutely aware of the doctor once more, when Castiel turned to address her.

“Do you think we could give him that muscle relaxant you mentioned earlier?”

“Of course,” The woman smiled kindly. She turned to her bag and started rummaging around for something.

“No!” Sam pleaded, tugging at his wrists, hoping that Dean would relent. “Please, no! I’ll be good! I swear! I’m sorry!”

“Hey,” Castiel shushed, reaching over Dean’s shoulder and caressing Sam’s cheek. He brushed away a few tears, and Sam shook his head in disbelief, he was actually crying. “Daddy and Papa have to make decisions that their baby isn’t going to always like, but know this, Sammy; Daddy and Papa promise to always make the _best_ decision for you.”

“Papa’s right, Bubba,” Dean spoke now, his tone having lost its hard edge, but his eyes still holding their firmness as a silent warning. “The Doctor needs to check you over, and because you’re so scared and confused you’re going to be a wriggly boy throughout, huh?”

“No, no,” Sam whispered, desperately shaking his head now, the tears falling thick and fast. “Please.”

“The Doctor will give you some special medicine that will help you be still like a good boy. Don’t worry baby, Daddy and Papa are going to be right here. We’re not going anywhere.”

Sam wanted to scoff. He’d bet anything that the two men wholeheartedly believed the explanation they had just given him.

He was so focused on the two of them and their words, so insistently begging them with hurried whispers and pleading that he didn’t see the doctor approaching with a sharp needle. His first indication that she was there was when she swiped his right bicep with an alcohol wipe to clean the area.

“No!” He screamed, flinging himself away from her touch and effectively into Dean’s chest. The man let go of his wrists, and threw his arms around Sam, holding him still but with such love and care that Sam didn’t think it was possible.

“No!” Sam tried to push up against the man, but Castiel was there too, his gentle fingers attempting to hold Sam’s arm still for the Doctor. In a matter of seconds, the sharp needle pierced his skin, the Doctor pushed down on the plunger and the drugs were successfully swimming in his blood stream now.

As soon as it was done, the Doctor stepped away and Castiel’s hands disappeared. Sam hiccupped and Dean shushed him kindly, lifting him from the changing table. Sam latched onto him again, hanging onto the man for dear life as Dean started gently swaying. Sam just gave up, sitting there sobbing into this grown man’s chest like a toddler who’d had his candy stolen, because in all honesty he _knew_ he wasn’t going anywhere while the muscle relaxant was in his system.

“There’s a good boy, Sammy,” Dean shushed. “You’re Daddy’s good boy.”

Sam said nothing. He just let his eyes close in humiliation and the tears slip slowly down his cheeks. He could feel the drug taking affect already, forcing his limbs to be heavy and lethargic and making him calm and docile against his will.

Suddenly, Castiel was in his face, smoothing his hair down with such a tender touch that Sam’s eyelashes fluttered at the kind gentleness.

“Papa’s so proud of you, Kitten,” Castiel praised. Sam felt a flutter of butterflies in the pit of his stomach, but pushed the feeling away. Castiel shushed him when he grumbled, and slipped something into his slightly open mouth.

It took less than a second for Sam to work out that it was a pacifier, and he knew he should want to scream and shout and spit it out, but the drug had such a hold on him now that he didn’t even really _want_ to fight them.

~TRUST ME~

Both the two Daddies and the Doctor knew as soon as the drugs began to take effect and all the fight left the little boy currently curled up in Dean’s arms like he belonged there. A mutual, silent sigh of relief washed over them all, none of them wanting this to be any harder for Sammy than it had to be.

Both Dean and Castiel knew that at some point they were going to have to work through the fights and the tantrums without the help of the drugs, but for the Doctor’s visit, the muscle relaxant was obviously going to be a necessary evil.

“There we go,” Dean shushed softy a moment after Sammy had gone almost completely boneless in his hold. “Such a good boy, huh Sammy?”

Sammy groaned and grumbled and shifted his head as if wanting to turn and hide his reddening cheeks.

“I’m sorry about that Donna,” Castiel apologised to the woman, turning his attention back to the Doctor.

“Don’t be silly, Castiel Winchester!” Donna scolded as she moved back over to the changing table. She lifted the mat and removed the scales from underneath as she spoke. “I told you – I don’t always get the warmest welcome from my patients, even the ones who are completely settled. And besides – it was you he pushed, not me!”

“Did you manage to get his weight?” Dean asked, moving to stand with the baby beside his husband. Castiel smiled at them both softly. “Or do we need to try again?”

“I got it,” Donna explained, a quick look to the scale that had recorded the numbers. “No need to upset the poor thing by taking it again. We’ll move on, okay? Let’s get this done as quickly as possible so that the three of you can finally start to settle in together, hmm?”

As Donna turned to get a few things from her, apparently never-ending, bag, Castiel turned to Dean.

“Let’s try skin-to-skin.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s interest peaked. “You wanna give it a try?”

“Absolutely,” Castiel nodded. He reached out and took Sammy’s hand gently in his and rubbed his thumb over the baby’s soft knuckles. He looked about ready to fall asleep on his Daddy’s shoulder, but Castiel knew that was only because of the drugs. “It’s a great bonding exercise for re-borns Dean, and it’s proven to be soothing for them. I really think this’ll help him.”

“Okay. You take your top off and sit on the rocking chair, and I’ll get Sammy undressed,” Dean supplied readily, eager to try anything for their boy.

“Are you sure?” Castiel gasped, as if shocked by Dean’s orders.

“What are you on about?” Dean scoffed, already lowering Sammy gently onto the changing mat. The baby fussed, moving his head and kicking his legs out haphazardly; in that moment he looked like an actual new-born. “It was your idea.”

“I know that,” Castiel stepped forward again. “I just thought that… maybe you wanted to…”

“Cas,” Dean rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, his hands still working expertly at the poppers around Sammy’s crotch. “You want this. And that’s cool. I want you to have this first. So; take off your shirt and plonk your ass on the rocking chair.”

“Watch your language in front of the baby,” Castiel scolded his husband, but he was already moving across the room, his top being pulled off with ease.

“Papa’s right,” Dean spoke, his voice suddenly baby-sweet as he spoke down to Sammy. “Shirt is a bad word – don’t go repeating it, or your Papa’s going to have my ass, okay Bubba?”

Castiel’s shirt got thrown across the room at that, hitting Dean square between the shoulders. Dean was laughing as he bent down to place a kiss on Sammy’s now bare belly, and even Donna was chuckling at their interactions.

With some more grumbling from the babe, Dean carried Sammy over to the rocking chair and gently lowered him into Castiel’s arms. He helped his husband manoeuvre Sammy into a comfortable position for them both, before stepping back and letting the Doctor take his place.

Donna worked quickly and efficiently after that, wanting to get the visit done as quickly as possible, so not to cause anymore undue stress on the baby than was absolutely necessary. She listened to Sammy’s heart and lungs, took his oxygen levels, sugar levels and blood pressure. She took three vials of blood to take away for testing, to make sure there was nothing wrong there. She had a quick look at his teeth and checked a few of his reflexes and everything looked to be in working order.

“Okay,” She started, sitting back as soon as everything was done. She striped off her gloves with a snap and addressed the two Daddies. “From what I can see, almost everything looks great.”

“Almost everything?”

Donna looked up at the man who was stood behind the rocking chair, slightly surprised that the exclamation of worry had come from him and not from Castiel. She smiled kindly; Sammy was going to bring out the softy in Dean, that she was sure of.

“Yup. But it’s all easily fixable. For starters, his wrist,” She pointed to the plaster-casted area in question. “I can’t tell you how that’s doing at all, and until we get his medical notes transferred, I won’t know what the hospital’s plan of action was, nor can I tell you whether it’s healing well. But I’m going to book him in for an x-ray as soon as I possibly can, just to check on it. He doesn’t seem to be in pain with it though, which is a good sign. Also, as soon as those notes come through, we can alter the recovery plan to accommodate his Little side.”

“What about his weight?” Castiel asked, knowing, without the Doctor having to say anything, that it wasn’t good. “We’ve been worried about him for a while now; how bad is it?”

“It’s not _great_ ,” Donna supplied with a heavy sigh. “But it is honestly not the worst I’ve seen. We need to work on getting his weight up as quickly as possible. So; I’m sorry, because I know you just forked out on a load of the normal stuff, but I’m going to prescribe you some calorie-rich formula to give him.”

“Anything,” Dean stated proudly. “I don’t care that that shit is expensive…”

“ _Dean,_ ” Castiel scolded his husband’s choice of words, but Dean continued regardless.

“If it’ll help our Sammy – we’ll do anything.”

“Well, good,” Donna smiled. “Because I’m about to tell you he needs a dose every three hours, even throughout the night.”

“Anything,” Castiel reiterated his husband’s words.

“Great. Keep that feeding schedual up for a week and then I’ll come back to see how he’s getting on. He should have put on some weight by then, and we can discuss whether to lower the amount of bottles or whether he’s able to go off of the high-calorie formula altogether, but I don’t think that’ll happen straight away,” Donna explained softly, her tone professional but almost saddened at the thought. She hated the image of baby Sammy going hungry because he couldn’t afford to buy the food. She was just glad that he now had two of the best Daddies in the world to care for him. “Keep him strictly on the bottles for now. You can add some flavour to them with honey or cinnamon for example, but no baby food – and certainly no solids.”

“Ugh, great,” Dean crossed his arms. “His diapers are gonna be gross. Bagsie not changing him!”

The simple, almost childish remark had Castiel bursting with laughter and wrapping his arms tighter around his baby. With a formula-only diet, Sammy’s diapers weren’t going to be the nicest, and while Castiel himself wasn’t looking forward to changing them, he vouched to do anything for his boy. He knew that Dean would too, even if it was with a peg on his nose.

“I’ve also got to send his bloods off,” Donna started back up after a moment of light-hearted laughter. “They’ll take about a week, so I can let you know the results of them when I pop round to weigh Sammy again in a week’s time. But other than that, he’s all good.”

“Thank you, Donna,” Castiel smiled at his friend as she moved over to her bag.

“Hey, it’s not a problem, you know that,” Donna chuckled. She pulled out a small tin of formula from her bag and held it out to Dean. “Here; this’ll get you started. I would make up a bottle now to give to him. You can still mix in the usual sleeping drugs and whatnot.”

Dean took the tin and went to extend his gratitude before Donna started speaking again.

“Oh, that reminds me – do you want me to prescribe some incontinence drugs?”

Castiel and Dean had already discussed this ahead of time and it was something they both wanted.

“Yeah; we know it’s not a long-term solution or anything,” Castiel started, pausing to rearrange Sammy who had started to grumble and move against him at the sound of ‘incontinence drugs’. Apart from shushing him soothingly and rubbing large circles on his back, Castiel ignored his wriggly boy for the moment. “But we think it’ll help him get used to the feel of using his diaper and help him get in the mindset a bit better.”

“That’s a good plan,” Donna supplied kindly. “Oh, and I’ll prescribe some hair removal cream. I always forget that the unwilling’s don’t come already “de-haired”.”

And that seemed to be that. Dean excused himself to the kitchen to quickly make up a bottle with the new formula and a dash of the sleeping drug for Sammy – the boy might have only been awake for just under an hour, but it would do him good to go for another nap right now. While he was doing that, Donna packed her stuff away and Castiel muttered soft-nothings to the baby in his arms.

When Dean reappeared, he handed the bottle over to Castiel who expertly pulled the pacifier from Sammy’s mouth and slid the bottle into place. The nipple of the bottle filled Sammy’s mouth a soft squeeze from Castiel had the milk flowing right into the baby’s mouth. Sammy’s eyelids were already fluttering as he gulped down the new formula hungrily.

Donna finished packing away and pulled out her prescription pad, jotting down the items she had promised the Winchester’s. As she handed them over to Dean, she shook his hand.

“Congratulations,” She told the couple. “You are now the proud Daddies of a happy and healthy baby boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a complete pain in my ass. It took me AGES just to get to Donna arriving - and this chapter must have had about 6 different starts and was almost skipped over entirely before I found this version to my satisfaction. *sigh* oh to be a writer. Also, I know Donna is a Sherrif in the show, and she was supposed to be in this, but as soon as I got the idea to make her the Doctor, my mind wouldn't give the role up for anyone else and so here we are.  
> As usual, all mistakes are my own and I will fix these within the next few days (hopefully). And Also (hopefully) I will get started on the next chapter of some of my other works too!!  
> If there's anyone, in particular, you'd like to see in this story, let me know and I'll see what I can do!! Who do you want to see Little, and who is their caregiver? Were they willing, or unwilling? You tell me!! Seriously, I want to get some of your guy's ideas on this!!  
> Love to you all for sticking with me!! You're the best!!!!


	6. "Yes, Daddy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October was the last time I updated anything!! I can't believe it's been that long!! I hope you all had a great holiday season, no matter what you celebrate and you all had a happy new year!! I'm so sorry for this for taking so long to come; I've been working on it, I promise!! It's just been slow going!!  
> Thank you for sticking around though, and I hope you enjoy this!!  
> All mistakes are my own!! I'll come through and edit a little later on!! <3 <3

** Chapter Six **

Dean had only been asleep for just under two hours when the alarm woke him from his slumber. He groaned his complaint as he sleepily reached out to turn off the obnoxious beeping machine that dared to wake him. Beside him, Castiel stirred.

“Want me to do it?”

“I got it,” Dean grunted, running his hands down his face and then through his hair in an attempt to wake himself further.

“You sure?” Castiel asked around a yawn, his eyes fluttering shut as he pulled the cover up over his shoulder and settled back down, clearly with no intention of getting up at all. Dean chuckled at the sight and reached over to press a soft kiss to the man’s cheek before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

“Love you,” Castiel mumbled a second before his breathing evened out. Dean rolled his eyes with a playful shake of his head as he grabbed his housecoat; at 1.50 in the morning, the house tended to have a slight chill to it. Before he left the warmth of his bedroom, Dean grabbed his phone.

As he walked down the stairs barefoot, he loaded up the ‘baby-cam’ app on his phone, that connected to the baby monitor and allowed him to watch his sleeping baby through the built-in camera.

Sammy was entering his fourth day with them now, and had been asleep almost that whole time thanks to the drugs that Dean and Castiel kept lacing his bottles with. Today though, the plan was to allow the baby to wake up a bit and see how he handled things; but not until a more reasonable hour, and not in any way before Dean had had his morning coffee.

Dean was up so early because Sammy was due another feeding. Every three hours, that’s what the Dr had said, and that was what the new Daddies had been doing. That meant that there was a total of eight feedings a day for the baby. 10 minutes before the scheduled feeding, the bottle was taken out of the fridge to be warmed to the perfect temperature. And that meant stupid-o’clock wake up times to ensure that their baby was fed on time, every time.

As Dean was screwing the lid on the bottle, the milk inside sweetened with a spoonful of honey (because Sammy seemed to prefer the honey flavoured bottles over others), there was a mumbling of noise from his phone. Dean smiled fondly as he glanced over the screen. The boy in the crib was beginning to move, and Dean hurried to pocket his phone and make his way back up the stairs and to the nursery so he could feed his hungry baby.

The ceiling was illuminated with a projection of stars, and the mobile that was still dutifully spinning slowly above the crib was playing a soft lullaby that gave the room a warm and relaxed feeling to it. Dean smiled to himself, feeling at peace in the room instantaneously.

At the creak of the door opening, the boy in the crib shifted and the baby’s head popped up and turned in Dean’s direction.

“Hiya Sammy,” Dean hushed in a quiet whisper as he deposited the milk bottle on the floor for a moment so that his hands were free to remove the lid and unlatch the side of the crib. He was conscious of the active baby monitor that resided on Castiel’s bedside table that would be picking up the sound of everything happening inside the nursery.

“Daddy’s brought you a nice warm bottle, Bubba,” Dean muttered to Sammy, as he slid his hands under the babe’s arms and hoisted him gently onto his hip. As the baby lost the warmth of his blanket and was pulled out into the slightly cooler air of the nursery, Sammy threw his head back dramatically and grumbled his complaint from behind his pacifier.

“Oh, I know,” Dean cooed lightly with a small chuckle. He reached his free hand around to cup the back of Sammy’s head and guided the still heavily-drugged boy to his shoulder. He then grabbed the blanket from the crib and draped it lazily over the back of the baby. “Daddy’s so mean for waking you up to feed your hungry tummy, hmm? Daddy think’s he has a drama queen on his hand’s though, huh?”

Sammy grumbled something inaudible again, thanks to his pacifier and the fact that he was probably still mostly asleep, shuddered out a sigh and seemed content enough to fall back to sleep, completely comfortable snuggled into his Daddy’s shoulder.

Dean let him doze for a moment, undeniably relishing in the feeling of having his baby so close and warm and sleepy. Dean knew that it wouldn’t last just yet and that they had a hell of a lot of work to go through until they reached a point where Sammy would be like this around them all the time, without the help of some drug to keep him placid and sleeping. He swayed ever so slightly and hummed along to the soft lullaby still playing from the mobile above the crib before he remembered the milk and that it was getting cooler by the second.

Dean trundled over to the other side of the room and gently prised his boy away from his shoulder and began lowering him down on the changing table. Sammy jarred awake from the movement, more grumbling and complaining, and Dean noticed tears springing in the corners of his eyes. The poor thing was so confused and, because of the drugs, couldn’t get his bearings; all he knew was that he was cold and awake instead of warm and asleep like he so desperately wanted to be.

“Oh, Bubba,” Dean pouted, bending down to press a chaste kiss to Sammy’s forehead. “Daddy’s so, so sorry, baby. We’ve got to change your diaper otherwise you’ll get a rash, huh? We don’t want that, do we?”

Dean got to work, lifting the blanket out of the way and un-popping all the poppers on the baby’s baby-grow and carefully guiding Sammy’s legs out before he began making headway with the wet diaper that was taped around the babe’s waist. As he worked quickly, he muttered soothing words and watched as Sammy bundled his blanket in his hands and brought them up to shield his face. The baby’s chest heaved a few sobs, and Sammy’s legs kicked at the cold wipe when it first began cleaning up his genitals but other than that, the boy stayed still and silent through his change.

“There, all done,” Dean declared a few minutes later when the last popper was in place. He bundled Sammy back into his arms and made his way over to the rocking chair, snagging the bottle of milk on his way. Dean got them settled into the large chair with ease and once Sammy was across his lap, head in the crook of Dean’s arm, Dean pulled the blanket away from the babe’s face.

“There he is,” He beamed, voice still quiet and soothing. “Daddy’s precious boy, aren’t you?”

Sammy wriggled and blinked up at him, and Dean could tell that the drugs were slowly starting to wear off and the boy was quickly going to start becoming more and more aware of his surroundings. And Dean was desperate to avoid a fight right now, so he quickly uncapped the bottle, pulled the pacifier from the baby’s mouth with a pop and slipped the large nib in its place. Sammy accepted the milk immediately, having got used to the feeling of the nib, and knowing what to do after four days of his milk-only diet.

As he drank, eyes fluttering shut before blinking back open again, Dean spoke to him softly.

“It’s going to be a big day for my Sammy.”

“Daddy bets that he will have to break open the pacifier with the strap, huh? Because he knows his little baby is going to want to try saying all those nasty big boy words.”

“Daddy knows it’s going to be hard and confusing, Bubba, but just know that Daddy and Papa are going to be right along with you. You won’t be fighting alone, sweetheart. Daddy promises. It will get better.”

As the bottle emptied, Sammy’s eyes slid shut and stayed shut. His breathing evened out and he tipped his head unconsciously towards his Daddy’s body heat. Dean hummed happily, removed the bottle, replaced it with the pacifier again and for a few extra minutes, rocked the chair with his foot, simply enjoying this moment with his baby.

-TM-

After the Doctor’s visit, Sam’s days bled into one. The two men who had him in their clutches kept him sleeping with the help of their trusty drugs. And each time Sam woke they were there again, with a diaper change (because the incontinence drugs he knew was swimming through his bloodstream kept him frequently using the blasted diapers they kept taped around his waist) and another drugged bottle that knocked him unconscious again.

So, when Sam woke again for the umpteenth time, he waited for the hands that would lift him from the crib he was led in, and the sugar-coated voice that would coo sweet nothings to him until he was asleep again. But this time, the fog that always clouded his head started to clear and he blinked in confusion as he started to get his bearings back – something that he had not been rewarded with since the Doctor had visited.

Whenever he had woken before, he could never really focus on anything apart from the soft lullaby that was almost always playing from somewhere, the soft voice of one of his kidnappers and their kind touch. Everything else was a blur and took up too much time, energy and effort to concentrate on it. He had learnt rather quickly to just let his mind focus on the things it found important, which was survival in the form of warmth, touch and food.

So, it came as a huge shock when he realised that he could now see the room (because he refused to call it ‘the nursery’, even though that’s what it so obviously was) that he currently resided in. The wooden bars of the crib beside him were round and larger that he had ever remembered them being, and everything was sickeningly babyish.

He grunted and moved, relishing in the feeling of being able to do so with freedom. Before, everything had been heavy and had hurt. Now though, he was able to turn and use his limbs accordingly, even though he knew it would take another few moments for them to feel completely back to normal. But he was nothing, if not patient.

Conscious of the fact that neither of the two men had made their appearance yet, Sam kept as quiet as he could as he turned onto his back. When he was greeted with the sight of more sturdy wooden bars above him, he groaned. Of course, the freaking big-ass crib had a lid, encasing him inside like a caged animal.

In frustration and simple thought of what to do next, Sam placed his hands over his eyes and clicked his tongue. Or at least, he tried to. Somehow, he was only just becoming aware of the fact that there was a large, soft, plastic nib in his mouth. With some panic, Sam pushed his tongue against the intruding item, pleased with then thing slid easily from his mouth. He lifted it carefully, and was horrified (although, he told himself, he should have expected it really) to see that it was an oversized baby’s pacifier. How had he not realised it was there when he’d first woke up?!

With defiance, Sam used his good arm to lob it between the bars and across the room. It made a satisfying thud when it connected with some piece of furniture – Sam didn’t care to look where it landed. Next, he began stripping himself of the diaper he knew he was wearing, wondering why on earth this hadn’t been the first thing he had done. He tried to move as quickly as he could, but it took him a moment to get to grips with how to remove the baby grow he was dressed it. He chose to ignored the fact that he was wet as he pushed the baby grow and the used diaper through the bars of the crib and onto the floor. Now it was out of sight, and out of mind he could really begin to work out a way out of here before one of his kidnappers descended on him.

As Sam assessed his situation once more, he grabbed the grey and white stripped blanket that was in the crib with him and wrapped it around himself to protect his naked dignity.  He knew that if the lid wasn’t on top of the crib, he could most probably climb over the side and lower himself to the floor with ease. So, with determination, Sam reached above him and pushed at the wooden bars securing him in the crib.

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t move.

“Oh, come on,” He hissed quietly, willing himself more energy and adrenaline and tried pushing again. The bars rattled with the slight force, but still they did not move.

With the lid locked on, Sam couldn’t sit up straight, but he could prop himself up at an angle. He wasn’t sure whether his new position hindered more than it helped him, but he refused to lose hope. He gritted his teeth and he wriggled his good hand through the bars to feel for a latch.

“Aha!” Sam cheered under his breath once he found it. The latch was just on the outside of the crib, but he couldn’t see the thing, no matter what angle he tried to wriggle himself into. He quickly resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to see it from inside the crib and moved on to feel it, trying to see it with his hands.

“Bloody hell! How do blind people do this?” Sam complained in a whisper, gritting his teeth, frustrated when he couldn’t work out anything just by feeling at the latch.

“Sammy?”

“Shit!” Sam cursed, the voice of his kidnapper making him jump and pushed him into flight mode, even though there was literally nowhere for him to go. He ended up whacking his head against the top of the crib, and at the same time tried yanking his hand back towards him. However, with the angle his hand had been and with the speed he’d tried to retract it, he ended up pulling his wrist awkwardly and for a moment ended up stuck in that position.

“Fuck,” He hissed, now more carefully pulling his wrist and hand back through the bars. He cradled his wrist with his other hand, barely sparing a thought to how lucky he was to not have broken his other wrist with that stunt, and gritted his teeth against the dull ache in his head as he looked over towards the doorway, where the voice had come from.

Stood there, leaning against the doorframe of the room as if he owned the place (and Sam guessed he probably did) was the slightly taller man, Dean.

Sam said nothing, but didn’t take his eyes off of the man as he pushed himself back into the bars of the crib, attempting to put as much distance between them as he possibly could.

Dean refused to break eye contact and so the two of them entered into a staring contest. Sam wasn’t going to give in easily, but the stern look that the man kept trained on him soon wore him down and he tore his eyes away quickly, unable to stand the pressure any longer.

He glanced back over just as quickly when he heard the man shift and begin moving towards him.

“Sammy, you must never try and get out of your crib by yourself,” The man spoke, voice cold and hard as he himself effortlessly handled the latch and removed the lid, barely having to look at what he was doing. “You could get hurt. That’s why Sammy sleeps in the crib, to keep him safe. Do you understand, Bubba?”

Sammy gulped at the words, but still said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to think or do; this was all new. This didn’t usually happen – by now he was in a fresh diaper and had been fed another bottle. But this time, there wasn’t a bottle in sight. His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands felt all clammy in anxiousness of what was to come next.

“Do you understand, Sammy?” The man asked again.

Sam blinked up at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. Dean was clearly growing impatient.

“Is Daddy going to have to put you over his knee for you to learn this message, little boy?”

Sam squeaked at the promise in the man’s tone and gathered the blanket around him further as if the soft fabric could protect him from the scary man. He shook his head vigorously; he did not want to go over anyone’s knee, thank you very much.

“Hmm,” Dean rested his arms on the top of the side of the crib and looked down at him. His features had softened somewhat now, but when he spoke again, he was still stern. “Then answer Daddy, please. Do you understand?”

Sam nodded his head. He had no doubt that the threat of a spanking wasn’t an empty one and planned to avoid it at all costs.

“Use your words, little boy.”

 _Piss off_. Sam wanted to spit.

 _Let me go_! He wanted to beg.

 _You’re crazy_. He wanted to shout.

Instead, he obediently opened his mouth and uttered an almost silent; “Yes.”

“Good try, Bubba; but not quite,” Dean hummed. His voice had almost lost all hardness to it now, but there was still a sense of ‘do-not-mess-with-me’ to the man’s tone. He began unlatching the side of the crib and lowering it to the floor.

Sam was confused. The man had asked him if he understood; had even threatened him with a spanking if he didn’t answer. Sam had answered, had told him that, yes, he did understand. But that wasn’t right? Well, what the hell did his kidnapper want him to say?

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean told him when he read the confusion of Sam’s face. “Daddy isn’t mad at you for this, because right now you don’t know the right thing to say. But Daddy is going to teach you, okay?”

Sam just stared wide eyed at the man, holding on so tight to his blanket that his knuckles were turning white. He didn’t want to say anything else to the man, he didn’t even want to look at him, but he couldn’t allow himself to take his eyes off of him, unsure of what would happen if he did.

“The right answer is, ‘yes, Daddy’,” Dean told him. “Can you say that, Bubba?”

When Sam realised what Dean was asking of him, he balked. No; no, he refused. There was no way the word ‘Daddy’ was ever leaving his lips.

Dean sat himself down on the edge of the mattress, and Sam almost whimpered, because although one whole side of the crib had basically been removed, the man was still an unmovable wall, trapping him in.

“Sammy,” Dean prompted again, voice slightly harder again. “Daddy has -”

“No,” Sam cut across him, voice quieter than Dean’s, but loud enough to get the man’s attention.

“What was that, little boy?”

“I said,” Sam spoke slightly louder, raising his eyes to look right into Dean’s. “No.”

His kidnapper did nothing. Not even the man’s eyes betrayed his emotions, and Sam shrunk back attempting to make himself smaller, already regretting speaking up. Potentially, he had just signed his death warrant.

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean sighed after a moment. “That’s okay. Daddy can help.”

Sam didn’t even get a second to contemplate the meaning of the man’s words before Dean slid his hands under Sam’s arms and pulled the younger man towards him and easily across his lap.

“No!” Sam screamed, trying to push away from the man and his utter brute strength. The blanket was ripped from around him and Sam was getting nowhere. He tried kicking his legs and hitting his fists against every available part of the man. “No! Let me go you bastard!”

A loud smack sounded around the room, but it was the sting that blossomed on his left ass cheek that had him freezing up.

“That is for your potty mouth,” Dean explained, firmly but calmly. “Daddy and Papa will not stand for such language from you, little boy. You are lucky that Daddy doesn’t get his bar of soap out!”

“You’re crazy,” Sam panted, trying to control his emotions. Sam kicked his legs, trying to lessen the sting, but Dean effectively trapped his flailing legs under one of his own, the position hoisting Sam’s ass higher and a easier target to hit. Sam felt his eyes filling with tears at this whole experience; he was exhausted already, and he’d only been awake about 15 minutes.

Another smack followed Sam’s exclamation, Dean’s mammoth hand covering his left cheek this time. Sam squawked and flung his hands back to protect his poor bottom, but Dean had no trouble gathering both of Sam’s hands in one of his giant ones and holding them at the small of his back. Sam grunted at the feeling of hard plaster against his back, but it wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable. Before he could utter another curse at the man, Dean spoke.

“That is for your cheek. When Daddy is finished here, he is going to get out the soother with the strap. I think my Sammy has said too many big-boy words today.”

A second later, another hit landed. The sting was now starting to warm his bottom and he had to take a sharp intake of breath, almost all fight having left him. His mind had pretty much given up, knowing that there was no way out of this until it was done, and adrenaline was pumping through him just to get him through the whole ordeal.

“That is for throwing your soother. Daddy saw you on the baby camera, Sammy. I am not impressed!”

Sam grunted, but didn’t say anything. A million thoughts rushed through his mind. The most prominent one was about how they could apparently see his every move through a camera he had yet to locate in the room.

A fourth slap landed.

“That is for taking of your diaper off. You must wear your diaper, Sammy. It protects you from all the accidents you will have. Because you’re just a baby, Sammy. It is very, _very_ important that you don’t take it off.”

Dean’s hand came down on his cheeks a fifth time.

“If Daddy, or Papa, catch you taking your diaper off again, we will have to invest in some lockable plastic pants. And that wouldn’t be fun, would it?”

Fun? Sam wanted to balk. Nothing about his current situation was fun! He began panting, a stray tear trickling down his cheek which he couldn’t wipe away with his hands still trapped behind his back. Surely this couldn’t go on for much longer; he wanted up and his ass hurt like a bitch.

A sixth blow hit and a seventh followed it straight after in the same place.

“Stop! Please!” Sam cried, the seventh hit proving too much and sending him into an onslaught of snot and tears.

“And when Daddy asks you something, he wants to hear a _‘yes daddy’_. Do you understand Sammy?”

Sam shook his head; it wasn’t that he didn’t understand, he understood perfectly what the man was asking of him, it was that he refused to stoop so low and call his kidnapper ‘Daddy’.

“That’s such a shame, Sammy,” Dean sighed, the disappointment and heartbreak evident in his voice. “Daddy is going to keep spanking your bottom, and you tell him when you understand – okay?”

“No!” Sam sobbed loudly, flinging his body around in a last-ditch attempt at getting free. But Dean’s hand began coming down on his cheeks in quick succession and damn, they hurt! “Please, please! Stop! I’m sorry!”

Dean said nothing, the blows just kept coming. There didn’t seem to be no rhyme or reason to them, no pattern that Sam could follow. Sam just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to sleep. He’d take a blasted bottle over this, even if just so it would knock him out. His resistance was being worn down and it wasn’t long before he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand the simple spanking much longer. He knew what he had to do, what he had to say, to make the whole thing stop, but his pride wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t until a particularly harsh slap landed right on his left sit spot that he broke.

“Daddy!”

Immediately, Dean stopped. Sam flinched away when the man placed his hand gently against Sam’s now burning backside.

“Hey, Sammy? Are you ready to tell Daddy you understand now?”

Sam nodded, desperate to wipe the not and tears from his face.

“Use your words then, Bubba.”

And he tried. They were right there, on the tip of his tongue. Sam even opened his mouth in an attempt to say the words he knew his kidnapper wanted to hear.

Dean sighed dejectedly and without hesitation began the spanking again, this time aiming directly for Sam’s sit spots. He had barely brought his hand down twice before Sam was screaming at him.

“I understand, Daddy!” He sobbed. “Stop, please! Please. Daddy. I understand. Please stop!”

 And Dean did. As soon as those words left Sam’s lips, Dean stopped and guided Sammy up and into his lap. He bundled the sobbing boy into his arms and for a moment just rocked him.

“That’s my good boy, Sammy,” Dean hushed, pressing a chaste kiss to Sam’s temple. “Daddy’s so proud of you, Bubba.”

Sam was to overcome with emotions right now to really care about what was happening post-spanking. He just relished in the kind touch, warmth and soft words.

“Daddy didn’t want to have to do that, Sammy,” Dean told him, carefully standing up, hoisting Sammy with him and settling him carefully on his hip. He bent down and gathered the discarded diaper and baby grow from the floor and carried them with him and Sam over to the changing table. “But sometimes Daddies have to do things that their babies won’t always like. Hopefully we won’t have to repeat this any time soon, eh, Bubba?”

Sammy shook his head, agreeing with the man. He _never_ wanted to go through that again and vowed to do everything possible to avoid taking another trip over Dean’s knee.

“There’s a good boy, Sammy,” Dean hummed, discarding of the dirty diaper in the diaper pail and threw the baby grow into what Sammy assumed was a laundry basket. Then he was being lowered onto the changing table.

“No,” He sobbed, the tears starting a fresh. “Please, no.”

“Hey,” Dean cooed, not taking his hands off of Sam once the boy was on the changing mat. “It’s okay, Bubba. Daddy’s here. He’s just going to put a fresh diaper on your bottom, hmm? To protect you from all those accident’s, remember?”

Sam shook his head, the tears now flowing out of the corners of his eyes. But he didn’t put up any more protests when Dean reached over him to strap him securely to the table. Sam was not ready to fight him on the diaper thing just yet, with his bottom still red and stingy, sure that Dean would put him straight back over his knee for just a simple disagreement. He promised himself that he would protest the diaper when his bottom had recovered and he wasn’t so god damn tired.

Dean worked quickly, effectively and professionally, wiping down his groin area with a soft sense of care and nothing else. He rubbed some cream over his burning cheeks and into his creases, apologising when Sam hissed at the sting it initially brought him. And then, the diaper was taped around his waist securely. Dean then reached below Sam, and into the changing table and pulled out a fresh baby grow.

“Let’s get you dressed and then we can go and find, Papa,” Dean told him, a huge excited smile painting his face, no sign that he had just been spanking Sam’s bottom moments ago.

Sam let his arms and legs be guided into the humiliating outfit, now desperate to fall asleep. Before Dean picked him up from the changing table, he reached into another draw and pulled out another pacifier – except this one had a strap connected to it, just like the man had promised.

“No,” Sam tried to protest. He pulled out a card that he hoped would work with the man, making his eyes swim with more tears and uttering the words that he hoped would pull at the man’s heartstrings. “I’ll be good, Daddy.”

“I know you will, my Sammy,” Dean beamed at the words. “But Daddy told you that he was getting the special soother out; I think Sammy needs to have a bit of quiet time. Okay?”

“No,” Sam complained, throwing his head back dramatically, pressing his lips together tightly to avoid the large plastic nib. He felt so helpless.

Dean had been expecting Sam to react in such a way, and reached for the man’s foot, gently running his fingers over the bare foot. As expected, Sam reacted, unintentionally kicking his leg out and gasping at the sensation. Dean reacted quickly, slipping the pacifier into Sam’s mouth and ignoring the boy’s futile struggles as he clipped the strap securely around the back of his head.

“There we are. A nice soother for my Sammy,” Dean shushed, ignoring the grumbles of complaint from behind the pacifier as he unstrapped the boy from the changing mat and lifted him back into his arms. “Now, let’s go and find Papa.”

Before they left the nursery, Dean snatched up the boy’s blanket and draped it over him, protecting his bare legs from any chill that might be in the warm house.

-TM-

Dean returned to the master bedroom with a sleepy, and grumpy Sammy in his arms. Castiel pushed himself into a sitting position and his at the sight of the surly boy. He immediately held out his arms towards Dean, in a silent request to hold the boy.

“Go and see Papa, Bubba,” Dean mumbled happily to the baby in his arms as he passed him over. Castiel gathered the boy, blanket and all and held him contently against his chest. Sammy struggled against his hold for a minute but soon settled down when Castiel shushed him, bouncing him in his arms ever so slightly.

“He’s a bit grumps with me,” Dean explained, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Castiel’s legs. “Daddy had to spank him.”

“Hmm,” Castiel acknowledged, looking down at the boy whose head was rested in the crook of his arm. “Papa saw on the baby camera. Such a shame, hey Kitten?”

Sammy grunted and turned his head further into Castiel’s chest in an attempt to hide.

“Papa bet’s his baby is hungry, huh?” Castiel shushed, reaching to his bedside table where a bottle had been warming up in a jug of warm water. As soon as he had the bottle in his hands, Dean removed the jug of hot water and helped Castiel pop the lid of the bottle.

Even though Sammy had just been given his new pacifier, Castiel popped it open and removed it. Before the babe could utter a single word, he replaced the pacifier nib with the bottle nib and held it there. Both Dean and Castiel were half expecting another fight with this, so they were both pleasantly surprised when Sammy latched on eagerly and began suckling the milk down.

“Someone’s a tired boy,” Dean cooed, his fingers gently brushing the hair off of Sammy’s face.

“It’s been a tiring new experience, Daddy,” Castiel answered for Sammy, a huge smile on his face as he watched his baby take his bottle. “There’s a good boy, kitten. Papa’s good boy.”

Sam hadn’t really wanted to take the bottle, but he was just so utterly tired and exhausted to fight right now and taking the bottle seemed like the least of his worries right now. He was half expecting it to be laced with the knock out drugs they had kept feeding him, but the bitterness of the previous bottles he could remember weren’t there. Still, as he suckled the milk down, his tummy got fuller and his eyes got heavier. And before he knew it, he was slipping into sleep, dressed in a diaper, and cuddled up to a man who called himself ‘Papa’; and right now, he didn’t even really care because he was warm and fed and getting the kind touch he so desperately craved.

He could fight them on everything when he next woke up.


	7. Baby Bouncers and Mittens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. I know. I'm sorry!!  
> I hope upon all hope that you are all safe and well and are following your local government advice!! These are uncertain times and know that I think of you all. And all the thanks in the world to all the key workers out there!! You guys are amazing!! <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> I have been writing during lockdown. But only little and often. I've got all the ideas and everything - but I've got all the new ideas too!!!! I've got half a chapter of a Destiel adopting triplets story written, I've got half a chapter of an A/B/O Dean/Cas/Gabe story written, and I've got many more ideas floating around on scrap pieces of paper all over my room. Not only that, but I've also got so many ideas for my other works, such as Picture This and What We Are. Everything will come eventually - I just can't promise when unfortunately. I'm trying to write as much as I can, but I don't always have the motivation or the muse to do it, which sucks in the current situation when I've got all the time in the world to actually do it. *enter eye roll emoji here*
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this little chapter though!!   
> Please, please, please, please take care of yourselves!! Much love!! <3 <3 <3 <3

** Chapter Seven **

Sam came around, blinking the sleep away slowly. He could hear soft laughter around him, the sound close and almost comforting; and for half a second, he had no idea where he was. But then, everything came crashing back and Sam jarred awake fully, immediately on edge and ready to fight whatever his kidnappers were going to throw at him this time.

He was expecting to find himself back in the crib again, but instead he found himself bouncing slightly from how fast he had jolted awake. Above him was an arched bar with babyish soft toys and rattles hanging down almost in front of his face, each item also swinging slightly from the movement Sam had caused during his abrupt wake up. He knew, without having to check, that he was strapped into an adult-sized baby bouncer.

Not only that, but he could feel the cooling wetness around his groin (which meant he had yet again humiliatingly pissed in the diaper he was being forced to wear) and the pacifier Dean had introduced him to was back in his mouth and strapped behind his head.

Sam swore as best he could, ignoring the way the word got muffled behind the almost too-large plastic nib in his mouth. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t really move too much. He wasn’t completely strapped down, but the five-point harness that was buckled up at his tummy did limit his movement slightly. But he could lift his head (and observe that he was in a warm, cosy, family living room) and his limbs were his to control. So, without really thinking about it, Sam’s hands went around the back of his head and started to unclip the simple latch of the pacifier strap.

He could tell that it was a very simple latch, just by feeling it. His hopes started to rise when he realised that with a tiny bit of trial and error, he would be able to remove it. But just as he thought he had it all worked out and was about to pop it open, someone took hold of his good wrist.

“What are you doing, Sammy?”

Sam screamed behind his pacifier, kicking his feet in frustration at being caught _again_. He desperately pulled his arm, trying to dislodge the man’s grip on him, but Sam’s movements seemed to have no effect.

 _‘Let go!’_ Sam tried to shot, brining his free hand around to help with his fight. He tried forcefully loosening the man’s fingers and when that didn’t work, he just screamed at him before digging his fingernails into the man’s wrist.

“Shi-” The man hissed, clearly biting back the swear word he’d been about to voice. He quickly grabbed Sam’s other wrist with his other hand to stop any further attacks. Sam started bucking, ignoring the way the bouncer bounced and the way the toys above him swung.

“Dean!” The man cried over his shoulder. “Could you be any slower?!”

“I’m coming!” Dean’s voice called back, just as hurried as his husband’s had been.

“Sammy,” Castiel spoke to him, voice firm. “Sammy, you need to stop. Calm down, kitten. It’s just Papa.”

Sam threw his head from side to side, the only way he felt he could really protest what was happening. He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out of the corner of his eyes in utter frustration. He wanted to wake up back in his shitty apartment, with no heating and barely any food in the cupboards, just so that he could safely say that this had been some crazy-ass nightmare that he could eventually laugh off.

“I’m here!” Dean exclaimed, his voice breaking through Sam’s struggles, making him suddenly become aware of what was actually happening around him.

“No, no!” Sam tried to plead behind the pacifier, kicking in frustration at how muffled his voice came out. He tried pulling his hands away, begging them with his eyes but neither of his kidnappers took any notice, too focused on fitting the soft, thick, train-patterned mittens over his hands.

As Dean made sure that the mitten fit over his cast comfortably, Sam stopped trying to get away and flopped his head back in defeat. His only protest being the tears still slipping from his eyes, making him really look and feel like the baby they were trying to make him out to be.

“There, all done!” Dean declared; voice overly cheerful as he spoke to Sam.

Castiel let the man’s wrists go now and Sam quickly cradled them to his chest. He refused to look up at the men and instead sulked, not raising his eyes from his now mittened hands. They weren’t even tied on; they just had a ring of elastic that sat around his wrist. They obviously felt that there wasn’t going to be anyway he would be able to get them off, otherwise they would have made sure they were unremovable – like they had with the pacifier.

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart,” Castiel cooed down at him, suddenly in front of him and undoing the strap around his tummy. Sam didn’t fight the man as he was lifted from the baby bouncer, actually kind of glad to be out the infantile contraption. “You must have been so scared, hey kitten? When you woke up and couldn’t see Daddy and Papa?”

Sam didn’t respond, not that he could have said anything even if he had wanted to. He couldn’t even find the adrenaline to push the man away and fight to be put down. He didn’t know how long he’d been here with his long bouts of unconsciousness thanks to the drugs they kept feeding him, but it felt like he’d been here a lifetime already and he was already sick of fighting everything. He didn’t want to give up, not by a long shot, but he just wished that this wasn’t happening.

There was nothing that Sam felt like doing right now apart from crying. Castiel continued to sway him, talking quietly to Dean over his shoulder – Sam couldn’t even find the energy to listen to what they were saying, instead choosing to rest his heavy head on Castiel’s shoulder, continuing to sob to himself quietly.

Everything seemed to settle down for a moment, and just as Sam was starting to relax, a hand squeezed his crotch area, clearly trying to check the diaper that was taped around his waist. The sudden touch, in an area he really didn’t want to be touched in, scared him and had him ready to fight in the blink of an eye. He spat muffled swears around the pacifier and tried desperately to get out of Castiel’s arms and away from the two crazy men who had him in their clutches. He pushed against Castiel’s chest so suddenly and with such force that the man himself hadn’t been quite expecting such a drastic reaction and Sam almost fell from his arms. The only thing that stopped him crashing to the floor and achieving his goal of getting away was because Dean was stood right behind him and caught him on reflex.

“Woah, Sammy,” Dean chuckled, carefully taking Sam into his arms. Dean’s hold on him was more secure, but Sam knew this was because the man was preparing for him to fight back like he had against Castiel. “You need to be careful, Bubba. You nearly fell! Good job Daddy was there to catch you, huh?”

Sam wanted to spit in the man’s face, but with the damn pacifier gag still strapped around his head he had no hope. Instead, he pulled his face into a ugly snarl and snapped out a muffled _“fuck you_ ” before pushing back against Dean’s shoulder’s trying to get away again. The next thing Sam knew, Dean’s hand cradled the back of his head and pushed gently until Sam’s head was pressed up against his shoulder. Sam tried to fight back, push against him with all his might, but somehow Dean was stronger than him and no matter what Sam tried to do he wasn’t getting away. He was stuck against the man’s chest and shoulder until further notice.

“There we go,” Dean hummed softly when Sam slowly started giving up his fight. What was the point? If they could manhandle him as easy as they could, what was the point in even attempting to fight? _My pride_. Sammy reminded himself; but his pride would only last so long if he chose his battles and this battle was one that he was just not winning right now. “There’s Daddy’s good boy.”

Sam snarled his lip again at the endearment, but this was seen by neither of his kidnappers.

“Don’t Cas,” Dean’s voice spoke, sounding loud near his ear. Sam tried to find Castiel with his eyes. “Don’t tear yourself up over this.”

“I nearly dropped him,” Castiel spoke, voice filled with such raw emotion that for a second, Sam felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart.

“No, you didn’t. He nearly fell. There’s a difference,” Dean reassured the man. “Sammy’s just real wriggly right now, aren’t you Bubba.”

Sam let out a frustrated sigh through his nose, letting his displeasure known.

“I know, baby,” Dean cooed down at him. “We’ll get you out of that wet diaper right now. Come on, Papa – you can help us.”

Sam grunted because that really was _not_ what he’d been huffing about, and he knew the man holding him knew just that!

Dean began walking, still holding onto Sam; but Sam didn’t feel his heart move into his throat until the man began walking up the stairs. He panicked, worried about being dropped and falling all the way down. He reached out, latching his arms around Dean’s neck, despite that really being the last thing he wanted to do. He tried pleading from behind his pacifier to be let down, but this time for his safety and not just because he wanted to get away.

With all the fuss, Dean stopped, only 3 steps from the bottom and shushed him, finally letting go of Sam’s head and wrapping his arms around him tightly so that Sam could feel more secure.

“Hey, Bubba – it’s okay. Daddy’s got you. He’s not going to let you fall, okay?” He began taking the steps again, a little slower for Sam’s benefit. “You just hold onto Daddy tightly and try not to wriggle, you wriggle-monster.”

Sam did just that, tightening his own hold on Dean and whimpering with each creak of the stairs, his new worry quickly becoming that the wooden steps wouldn’t take their combined weight. It took forever to climb 12 steps, and Sam let himself breath in a victory breath at surviving such a feat and vowed to live out the rest of his kidnapping upstairs if going back down the stairs meant that he would have to be carried down again.

“See Sammy? Daddy told you that he wouldn’t let you fall, eh?” Dean spoke softly once they’d reached the top step. Sam didn’t respond, he just relished in the fact that he was still in a secure hold and not at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck.

When they entered the room that Sam had been in since he got here (it was _not_ a nursery, god damn it) Sam felt a sense of calm and familiarity wash over him for a second before he shook that away, reminding himself that he shouldn’t be feeling like that at all.

-TM-

“Here we are,” Dean cooed as he carried Sammy across the nursery to the changing table. “Time to change your bum, my boy.”

Sammy scowled and threw an obvious _“fuck you”_ at him from behind his pacifier which Dean and Castiel ignored. The babe struggled half-heartedly, but he was no match for Dean who was expecting the fight and easily manhandled Sammy into place on the changing table.

“What’s the matter baby?” Castiel asked Sammy, his voice sugar-coated. He stepped up to the changing table as Dean began strapping their boy into place onto the mat. Castiel brushed his hand over the babe’s cheek, feeling a stab of hurt when Sammy tried to jerk away. “I thought you wanted out of that wet diaper, huh?”

Sammy kept his head turned away from the two men, his pacifier pushed out as much as it could be where he was either pouting or trying to push against the plastic nib in his mouth. Dean leaned over the changing table and took Sammy’s chin with his fingers, turning the boy’s head until he had no option but to look into his eyes.

“Papa’s going to change your diaper now, Sammy, okay? You’re going to be a good boy for him, aren’t you?”

Sammy clearly disagreed with what Dean was sprouting, trying to throw his head out of Dean’s grip and pushing at Dean’s arms with his mittened hands. Dean stayed an unmovable wall, his face going from firm, but soft, to hard and Castiel couldn’t help feeling weak and inferior against his husband, just as Sammy probably was – that was after all the whole intention of such behaviour.

Castiel was able to hear a muffled _“Let me go you bastard!”_ from Sammy, in between all his struggling.

“Hey,” Dean called loudly over the boy’s struggles, grabbing Sammy’s attention with a short, sharp tap against the boy’s thigh. Sammy still instantly. “Enough of that little boy. You were really good for Daddy earlier when he changed your bum. I know you can be so good for Papa too, yeah?”

A small, scared nod from Sammy (who was probably remembering the feeling of Dean’s hand on his bottom earlier that morning) seemed good enough for Dean. The man stepped aside, holding his hand out towards the changing table in invitation to Castiel.

Castiel took a deep breath and shook off all of the worried, anxious and hurt thoughts and feelings that he’d experienced in the last 20 minutes or so. As he stepped into Dean’s place at the side of the changing table, Castiel was the man who had grown up in Heaven and looked after countless little’s and changed an unimaginable amount of diapers.

“Hi there, sweetheart,” Castiel shushed, a warm hand resting over Sammy’s tummy, ignoring the little kick Sammy gave – probably on instinct. Castiel continued to talk to his baby as he quickly pulled out all of the necessary equipment. He worked quickly, but no less professionally as he untapped the diaper and started cleaning Sammy up. “Papa has a nice story book we can read after this, all about the baby monkey who is living all alone. We can snuggle on the couch and look at the pictures, what do you think Kitten?”

Sammy groaned and hid his face behind his mittened hands, his legs suddenly going rigid, making it almost impossible for Castiel to finish the change.

“Come on now, sweetheart,” Castiel cooed, leaning over the changing mat and pressing a soft kiss to Sam’s forehead, which was still exposed from behind his mittened hands. “We’ve gotta get you into a diaper before you have any accident’s hey? We don’t want little puddles all over the floor, do we?”

“I bet our Sammy would love jumping in puddles, Papa,” Dean spoke, a soft smile on his face which told Castiel that he had suddenly had an image of their Sammy in red wellington boots and a bright yellow coat jumping in muddy puddles and laughing that beautiful baby laugh while it wouldn’t stop raining.

“I’m sure he would,” Castiel agreed, soft fingers tickling just under Sam’s chin. “But not in puddles of pee – eh? Only muddy puddles, yeah?”

Sammy just grumbled, not moving his hands to show his face.

“Come on, Sammy,” Castiel spoke now, voice a little harder, when the boy’s legs still wouldn’t relax enough to be moved. “We have to put your diaper on now. Or do you not want to read that nice story, Papa was telling you about?”

After a slight pause, with unsurprisingly no change from Sammy, Dean spoke up again.

“Come on, Bubba. We don’t want to have another trip over Daddy’s knee, do we?”

This seemed to be enough as Sammy relaxed his leg muscles again with a quiet squawk.

After that, the change was quick, simple and completely painless for everyone. When the baby grow had been buttoned up over the boy’s diaper change, Cas unstrapped him from the changing table and lifted him into his arms again.

“Look at you,” Cas cheered happily, bouncing the baby in his arms slightly. Cas was all smiles again; the diaper change having brought back his confident for who he was and just what he did best. “You did so well, baby!”

“Daddy knew you could do it, Sammy!” Dean clucked happily, using his fingers to tickle underneath the baby’s chin. Sammy threw his head away from Dean’s kind, gentle fingers, crossing his arms as best he could with the mittens still around his hands, and pouting from behind the pacifier that was still strapped around his head.

Neither Dean, nor Cas were able to hold back their cooing, finding their babe’s attitude too darn cute. This caused Sammy to scowl further and throw his two Daddies a cold, hard look that only proved to make him look cuter still.

“Come on you,” Cas chuckled, tightening his hold around the boy. “Let’s go and snuggle!”


End file.
